[div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]♡ — Seven months. It had been seven months now since Roan had first been welcomed into the world, and had begun to bear witness to its wonders, both good and bad. When he had celebrated his fur birthday at the mere age of one month, he had thought that nothing could ever go wrong in his life. He had just been a simple child, babbling away in his one to three word sentences to his mother as he pressed into her soft fur, listening to her sweet lullabies. Now, six months later, he knew that the world wasn't as infinitely kind as he had once thought. He had ended up hurting not only his mother, but two of his fellow crew members. Something that horrified him, and made him want to hide himself away, eventually leading to him running here. The Pitt was hardly the ideal place to stay, but thus far they had been kind, save for Caesar. Kydobi had welcomed him in once he had proven he wasn't a threat, and so far nobody had come barging onto their territory, claiming that he had been kidnapped. For that, he was grateful. Still, he had hardly ever wished to be in the Pitt for one of his birthdays. He would much rather be with his mama, and all of his baby siblings, and his uncle Michael and uncle Trevor. He missed all his friends in the Typhoon, and even the people that he didn't know too well. After a week in the Pitt, the salty scent of his home was beginning to vanish from his pelt, and he began to feel destroyed.

The draconic boy found himself sitting at the edge of the Pitt's little main "town" area, his wings hugged around himself and a frown gracing his muzzle. He had a piece of prey with him, but it seemed as though he had hardly touched it, just staring resolutely ahead. Eventually he shifted, laying down on his belly and staring straight at the piece of food, trying to imagine it as one of his mother's homemade birthday cakes. Last birthday his aunt had even given him a present. It meant a lot to him, especially considering he didn't see her much. Now, though? It was just him, and a lone piece of prey, out in the middle of an unfamiliar desert where half the people around didn't even want him. He yearned to go home, but he still wasn't sure if he could face what he had done. He had hurt people. People he cared about. How was he supposed to make up for that? This time, when a lump began to form in his throat, Roan didn't even bother to stop it. Soft sobs began to leave him, fat tears rolling freely down his cheeks and hitting the sandy ground below. Between the sobs that racked his body, the male mumbled softly, still staring at the lone piece of prey, "H... H–Happy birthday to me, I guess..." He didn't even think anybody would come to comfort him, figuring they'd see him only as an intruder in a foreign land.
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