<font color=#a1987a><font color=white></font> How am I still alive?</font>

Why he had indeed missed that memo, he hadn't heard about the falling of the star, he didn't know that they'd gone through two years ago what he'd gone through just shy of a few months ago. He hadn't lost his family to a shooting star gone array though a forest fire had obliterated their pack lands, closing in on all sides, it had devistated the landscape, chared remains of tree's was all that was left of the once lush forest landscape. And because no one had heeded his demand that they left that bloody place they had all died. Horrible deaths. All of them. At night, he could still hear their screams. Most of the time he blamed himself, deep within, that he couldn't have convinced them to do something, to just leave. It was simple. But the night before, a deep warm summers night, the sky had opened up with lightning and thunder, cracking about over head. Large hail stones fell from the sky, what seems like your average storm wasn't in fact average at all.

He can't help but remember the wind whipping up around his face, dirt and debris flying at a fast speed, he hadn't known what to call the thing that soon sprouted from the center of the pack, a tunnel of wind that spirraled up into the sky and opened up a whirl wind of distruction, but it wasn't just the tornado that had killed them, some but not all, those that stayed hidden in their dens soon found a heat far more extream than their day time summer weather could afford. The lightning had sparked dry tinder not to far away from the pack-land, the trees seemed to spontaniously combust. With the help of the tornado their world had been whipped up in a fiery masacre that took down everything in it's path. A variable fire storm. So no, he hadn't gotten that memo as of late. He's about to comment on the weight of the fools comment when she tells him of a falling star. "Either way, the fools have paid for their stupidity" he says in a gruff voice.

"The possibility of it is looking quiet tantalizing as the hours progress" he said in a rather dull voice as he turned away from her for a moment to look out on the landscape. She spent so much time in worry about his name that she'd completely forgotten to give her own. "I could say the same for you," he says with mild amusement at this topic they have landed themselves on. "I could well have a deathwish, there is no faith left in me and trust is something to be earned not freely given" he says to her keeping his white eyes off in the distance. "Names are useless Dove, they seem to haunt us in our dreams, delight in torturing us through out the day light and lead to nothing good in general"

Well at least you couldn't say she wasn't persistant in her ways, he has yet to give in but he doesn't see the loss in giving the violet eyed vixen something to chew on for a while, to sedate that curiosity that bubbled up inside her. "Very well, if you insist. The names Paldor -" he would have continued on, but the old times were gone now he wasn't a mystic any more than she could be a soothsayer. Life here was much different than in his old home. There was many new things to learn about customs and such, perhaps atleast he could get a grasp of what life was like here from this woman and then he'd figure out where that left him no where Paldor, no where at all.

"talks like this"

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