My cream colored paws are carrying me so recklessly throughout the land of Diveen. I find myself still wandering the borders, awaiting the return of Isola. She is not my Mother, no. My Mother died. She is gone, long gone and I miss her still. My heart still aches over her loss, despite her being a small part of my life in the start. Father has told me of how she was the start of my life. She was his everything, his life and blood and she had died to a cat. He tells me that she is within me, and this comforts me some. Isola, has taken a motherly role for me. She is kind and fed me when Father could not. She comforted me in my times of need, and she has been there for me for longer than my Mother could. i cannot fathom losing her, my Isola, but it could be so. War, was some terrible thing. Thus, I pace at the border awaiting her return.

My iceberg eyes of blue and white dash back and forth. I notice every little sound that comes to my chocolate brown ears. A particular noise catches my ears on this day, and it is the sound of a howl. It is a colorful howl, and I think it isn't colors I have seen before. My muzzle immediately raises to sniff the air as the song continues. My chocolate hackles raise in confusion. I want Isola back, and now there are strangers at the border. I don't want strangers at the border, I want Isola. What if they are here to say she died? What if they are here to bring her body? Why are they here when everyone left for war? I did enjoy the colors and tones of the ones who howled, and I must admit that my irritated state couldn't even deny beauty. I lower my chocolate hackles, and my creamy paws begin to take me towards where the voices colored the sky.

I weave through the trees, so vibrant with the colors of fall. The sounds of the leaves are even yellow gold in tone, sometimes brown and red like the leaves themselves. Fall is quite the enjoyable time, and I almost feel a bit calmer as I take my journey along the border. My eyes look above at the trees, as leaves falls so gently onto the ground. I almost manage a grin on my cream colored muzzle before my attention was turned towards the sounds and colors of voices. My pace slows down, their images still obscured by the foliage of Diveen. I turn on my sneaking skills, my growing form of a one year old pup hugging the ground so carefully. I wander up closer, trying my best to avoid noisy branches and leaves. It was a little difficult and I cannot say that I was completely successful. My eyes peek through the leaves and thorns of bushes. I look around the frame of foliage and see many wolves gathering. Wolves my age, or around there, and some older ones. In find my red brows furrowing at the sight of them. I am frustrated that none of them are Isola. All strangers.

I hear the words of Ayal, in the language of Latin. Yet, her colors are not as Achilles. They are much darker in tone and clarity. I tilt my head slightly as I listen to her, hearing the words she says and knowing their meaning, but not really understanding what she meant. Words that can poison ears? I immediately drop my ears to the head, unsure of what the younger pup meant. I then hear the words of the other puppy, the foreign one and he speaks in Latin also. I understand his words, yes, but yet again the meaning alludes me. Why do these wolves use words so much? I find it rather frustrating that I don't understand their clandestine meanings. In my listening, I found that my paw slips up a little, and I force myself forwards towards the group. My growing limbs stop many yards away though, and I am content to watch the group while I stand. I stand with my head low to the ground, my nose sniffing so intently as they all continue to speak. So many colors at one flood my mind, so many that I am not used to. Yet, none of the words in English or Latin explain why they are here, and none of them carry the scent of Isola.

I look over the first female, and I know that it is her voice who called out the moment she speaks. My eyes then dart to a male, a young male who yet is older than I, Mortz. Much larger. I find that my eyes linger on him for a longer moment, before attempting to look closely at the others. A dark black female and a pup younger than I. Why is it, that they have brought puppies along with them here? I furrow my brows slightly, with my nose still on the ground. I huff slightly, pacing a few times as my eyes remained glued on them. I am not completely aware that I am not the most...presentable pup in this moment. There are many bits of leaves and twigs stuck in my fur. My cream colored paws are tainted with mud, and even part of leaf is stuck to my black nose at this point. I must say, that I have been much too stressed to care about my looks, not that I really cared too much to begin with. I am a natural beauty, more wild in looks than refined and regal, but I am also a pup of one year and many moons. I am still growing, and maybe in time I will become more refined, yet part of me, doubts that is the case.