What is the path my paws are set on? Am I on any path at all or am I just leading myself in circles? I don't want to be simply going through the motions any longer, I know I can be important but not how. I know I am like my mother because I can see things the others cannot, I do not speak of it, not to anyone because I fear the reactions. I don't know if I would be chased off for being crazed, or if they would refuse to let me leave the den but I just want to be normal. I can see flashes of what may come, and maybe it can help me, but I don't want it.

It seems no matter what I want I'm stuck with it, I can't just run from myself after all. The whispers will still be carried to me on the wind and in my dreams. Showing me fuzzy and frosted over images and echoed words of things I must do. Red flecked eyes blink as I think of Caligula and Tesseract. They were not my real parents but I acted as such because Father was dead and Mother had all but vanished. FAther was the prince of shadows and my mother was the queen of moonlight. I don't feel more connected to shadows, or moonlight, or the sun, or anything like that. The wind curls and plays with my deep black fur, bright white erupting from the tip of my tail almost like a searchlight. My bandit mask was a tribute to my mother, it was an intermixation of silver and russet, it made my ice blue and red flecked lavender eyes stand out more, almost like grandma Ruvindra had some say.

My sister well cousin leaps into my path and my head lifts slightly, a small laught bubbling up at her playful type of dominance and maybe, just this has made me feel better. She speaks and my ears swivel. "I think I went to think. I don't understand some things I see or hear..." My tail moves behind me and really why is it that just a simple playful meeting can take my mind off things?