The snow feels, while frightfully chilly, nice around her feet. It isn’t too high, yet too low; a perfect height to stand in and enjoy. Erys feels like a pup again, frolicking in the snow. But as soon as the thought of childhood passes, sadness overcomes her. It is obvious in the way her head droops, muzzle near touching the ground, and how her tail comes a bit between her legs. A part of her hates to think about her past, to think about the happy times. Filled with family and goodness. Of course, being so young, the memories are hazy and foggy; like a dream you remember but cannot seem to grasp too fully.

But she remembers her siblings; sisters and a brother. And then there was deceit and whispered worries. Back then, she was a pup, too young to be able to understand what was going on. Then, then there was the fire. Everything was gone. With it came the destruction of her home, the segregation from her pack who probably did not make it, the scars on her legs from trying to outrun the fire as limbs came falling down, and gone was the way of the mystics.

One of her fondest memories was of her father speaking to her about a prophetic dream he had. She no longer remembers what the dream was about, but she does recall how his eyes had shone brighter and his voice grew passionate. It was the way of her family, her pack, and to know it was all gone… well, it was something.

The sound of running catches her ears and all at once she is alert. Head up high and ears tall. It is loud and near. Erys is nervous because it has been so long since she has spoken to someone. And what if they are aggressive, just attack her? Tension fills her spine at the thought and she steadies herself more, preparing herself for whatever it could be.

But the wolf that comes towards her is something out of her dreams. Shock colors her and her pupil-less eyes widen. Near everything about him is familiar. Sure, a bit thinner and more worn, but that could be attributed to age. He does not say anything and Erys questions herself. Paldor was so lively and cheerful; this wolf seemed so stolid. But, yet, has she not changed? No longer the naïve little pup she once was? She is hesitant when she speaks, afraid to look him in his equally white eyes, “Paldor, is that you?”

erys
come on skinny love just last the year