I rose from my makeshift den in the hollow of a tree lined with grass inside, opening pale sky blue eyes to the outside world, blue eyes swirled throughout with crimson. It was just another day where nothing changes and yet this does not faze me. Things change yes, in fact I can say that most wolves have changed around here. Many years have passed and yet I refuse to change, just like my coat of ever lasting moonsilver. The same black is mixed within and along it, deep russet still coating my belly and chest. My coat remains flawless and uninterrupted for the most part, however beneath that coat there were many new scars.

At first it seems like I am not going to move at all out of my den, but after a long moment of gazing outward and rare pieces of internal thought my tail swished slightly. My muscles coild and tremble and then I am springing outwards with a great leap and a run, wind in my wake making the tips of my silvery fur quiver. I have no destination in mind, no goal set clear in my mind, for these days I indeed lack such a thing.