A story, had said the voice nearby his mother's den. You should come. And you too. She hadn't spoken to him, that electric little voice, but, then again, he hadn't been outside at the time. Mother had been home and, as such, she was keeping a watchful eye on her son to make sure he didn't sneak out, as was his tendency. But Mother was the queen and couldn't stay inside all day long. She had things to do and business to attend to. Haziel knew this and that thought kept him patiently inside the cool confines of the den without complaint.

He was playing with a rock, a cold, smooth thing with uneven planes about the size of his large forepaw, when Mother informed him she would be back soon. There was reluctance in that soft, gentle voice. Father should have been back by now with Ariel and Forfax, someone should be home to watch Haziel, to make sure he didn't get hurt while she took care of pack matters.

"Ferte adero," he had said without turning his gaze away from his stone, a light pull of his lips softening his young face only just so, tail giving a couple of involuntary wags. When you return, I will be here. She had to know it was a lie. When had he not taken such an opportunity?

She was gone, then. The consistent rhythm of her breath had turned to silence and even her footfalls had washed away with distance. With her gone, Haziel tossed away his rock with a flick of his nose. It rolled and clattered along the packed floor of the den, hitting the hard stone wall with a sharp clack and bouncing a couple times before coming to a halt. He let the silence fall again, listening intently for the sound of footsteps or voices. Nobody came to check on him... good.

Haziel stood quickly, shaking out his cottony coat and turning toward the direction which Mother had disappeared. An ear cocked, expression tightening in concentration as he searched for a sound. The wind was rather still today but the sound was ever-present, that soft, high note that framed the opening to the outside world. Taking up a high-stepping jog, Haziel exited Isola and Kane's den.

The sun beat faintly on his left flank, a sign that the day was waning down, and the crickets had already begun to sing. He had to hurry if he wanted to catch this story; that girl had said she was already heading there when he had heard her outside the den. He paused for a moment, thinking back to when she had spoken.

She was standing... here. He shifted a few steps, turning about until he caught the whistle off the den's entrance straight ahead. And she went... He thought in reverse, his poles switched now that he was referencing from the outside. That way. The boy turned his head over his shoulders, the direction in which her paws had carried her off. Good enough.

Haziel turned on heel and took up in a lofty jog, paws clearing most of the low rocks in his path. He was getting better at this. He didn't stumble much these days, his paws taking quickly to the uneven earth as they landed. His gait had become loose, his limbs responding the the lightest graze of a high rock and folding neatly to clear the obstacle without resistance. Sure, his knees were scabby from the learning process, but he was getting better. As long as he listened to his surroundings, long as he kept on with his sense of touch and smell, he moved about nearly unhindered. Haziel might not have had any knowledge of the wonders of sight, but he had begun to believe it was not as integral as his family suggested.

After a few minutes of travel, the boy began to pick up the constant scent of a female and used that as his reference. It soon took him downhill, into the great ravine he had come to know so well. He was never blind here; even the most still of days send the wind screaming around the rock walls and hollows. He could hear the barriers and edges, the roar of the deep, open air. It was here that he felt most confident... It was also here that his mother worried most about him.

The sound of voices carried through the ravine, amplified by the rising cliffs. He must have been close and the very thought quickened his pace to a near lope. He heard a greeting in Latin, the language of his family, spoken from a young female. The blatant arrogance of her voice, the privileged manner in the choice of her words, made him cringe slightly. She seemed most... unpleasant. There was a male, then, who spoke his greeting in the common tongue. In contrast to the girl who hadn't given her name, Nootau had a polite, agreeable feel about his words. Soon, there was an exchange of names from the others who were already present. Emerald, that was the name of the older girl who had spoken outside Mother's den. He recognized that fiery timbre from before as she introduced the others present. There was an older male, Voltaire, who seemed to be the head of the primary trio, and a younger girl called Ska who scolded Emerald for starting the story too early. One, two, three... four, five, and he made six as he slowed his place, coming to a halt some distance behind the boy called Nootau.

"Salve?" Hello? He greeted the group, uncertainty in his voice. Would they welcome him as they had Nootau? He couldn't be sure. After all, he could very well be the youngest here. Haziel wanted to hear this story, though. True or false, and he would know soon enough which it was when they spoke, he had come to love stories. He could not see, could not comprehend the colors or patterns a person spoke of, but he could hear the excitement, the danger, the mystery. When a person painted a story with words, there was feeling in everything they said. His blue hazed, stark yellow eyes were on no-one specifically as he continued to introduce himself.

"I am Haziel, son of Isola and Kane," the boy said, going quiet as he listened to the sound of their steady breathing for a moment. This... this was where he had little experience. Besides his family, Haziel really didn't know much of the members of Diveen. There was that girl, Elara, he had met weeks before by chance, literally stumbling upon her, but... Since then, security around the den had been a little more tight. "Would you mind if I heard your story, as well?"

The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.