I don't pretend to understand the reasoning behind my sister's war. I do not comprehend the need to send your followers into bloodshed and hatred, to death. War is ugly, it is vile, and worst of all it only leads to further conflict. If the packs could only coincide in peace, make treaties not war pacts, then Moladion would be all the better for it. We as a nation cannot afford to turn on one another, we have been through so much already. I was born for the giant snow storm, only a few months old when we had to move to keep warm, when Trenus was ravaged by the storm. Still, our allies came to us, and those with no friends became colder. Our father may not have had the true respect he deserves, but the other packs knew they could come to us when in trouble. I do not doubt that Isola can make such a thing happen, but I do not understand her need to answer this call to arms.

Perhaps, it is simply that I am not hearing all of the story, and indeed I must admit that I am unacquainted with the so called “Demon” queen. She seems to be rather foolish and maybe a bit reckless with the lives of her wolves, but such a thing is not my business. I hear that the war is over Uncle Devil, that he attacked the once queen Ruvindra, and her son, that Isola would not let Iromar have Devil so they grew angry. Some perceived injustice was enough to cause that? It is ridiculous. I keep my nose firmly out of their affairs, having turned my back on my heritage. My father apparently thinks it is wise to go against fate, that he could somehow erase what bond had been forged. I am glad to have made such a decision, and I couldn't be happier with my family. Perhaps, this is what led me to accept Alcide's task, to make peace with other packs and aid in keeping such a treaty. After all, peace is a two sided affair.

I move to collect Godric, choosing to wake young Butterfly last as I make my way slowly to the male's den. I am an early riser, I always have been, even as a young pup I was one of the first to wake. My white pelt catches the early morning sunlight, giving a kiss to Ragnarok and Zigzagel, then touching my nose to Zildjian's before I set out from my den. My trot is light, airy seeming, my motions fluid and pride held in my light opalescent blue gaze. My light frame gives me a very smooth gait, long legs and plush fur giving me the ethereal grace of my mother before me, her blood flowing more strongly within my veins. I like to think this is why I am not so egotistical as some of my siblings. I think they have forgotten the lessons mother gave us in humility. I smile, looking up at the blue, pink, and gold of the heavenly expanse above us; I imagine mother is up there now, guiding my path to do what is right. I shall make peace. Even if the task is easy enough.

After I wake the pair I shall be traveling with, I move toward the lands of Glorall. I keep my pace slower than usual, wishing to take my time and watch as the landscape changes from mountain to coastal. My white tail waves as we come to the border of Glorall, my expression open and light, friendly and tactful. I look to Godric, a smile on my face as I open my maw to speak. My voice is light, inviting as I speak to him, ”Would you like to call for Silvertongue?” I recline, waiting respectfully for his answer as I look around for Butterfly, hoping she was able to keep up with us after such a long trip to the beach.