Nootau woke from a dream so big and loud that he jumped so high he hit his head on the ceiling of his den. His eyes squeezed shut and he coughed a distressed grunt as he swallowed the jolting pain that flared down spine. He set a sad gaze at the den around him, just to make sure the den wasn’t covered in blood. Vividly, he’d seen the death of Gramps again. Why this should come to him after so long, Nootau hadn’t a clue, and he weighed heavily on his soul. There was nothing a pup could have done, nothing the pack could have done, and yet still, Nootau felt angry. However, maybe that was only because he’d hit his head. Haunted by the visions of the gray wolf’s death, Nootau paced quickly outside onto the mountain side.

The chill air soothed Nootau’s troubled brain and on inhale cured him of rapid breath. Perhaps he was facing old demons because he was here, in the mountains. They reminded him much of his old home. He had few kind memories of his old pack, but he had pleasant ones of the mountains and of adventures he took through them on his own. With a wide yawn, Nootau shook himself free of sleep and began up the mountain side. The sun had just disappeared from the horizon. Nootau’s tail waved as he watched the pinkish light fading slowly away from the valley between two peaks.

Brightness glowed in Nootau’s eyes as the images of his dream faded as he grinned excitedly. He had to make it to the summit! Nootau’s legs worked in high gear and he bounded across the boulders with confidence, never misplacing a paw. He wound up the mountain side and reached the highest cliff he’d ever been to. He skidded to a stop at its edge, pebbles scattering over the side of the cliff to the ravine below. He looked up at the sky to see the first few stars appear in the night. Hero’s stars, he’d been taught. Long had many of their names been forgotten, but never would any wolf forget the population of great wolves that had been and there were.

Nootau lifted his head to greet them, but paused when he heard the proud voice of a she-wolf. It was Moonglow, Nootau knew. He hadn’t met her nor even heard her voice, but he’d heard whispers of her return. She was calling to them, her pack. When the voice became silent, Nootau paused to listen for the replies. A long pause drew out. Too long of one for Nootau to wait for.

Instead, he raised his head and answered. His howl was lower and maintained the unique gravelly characteristic of his voice. Proud, joyful, it was clear he was thrilled to answer. and to be here in Spirane. When his howl drew to a close, Nootau’s legs were in motion again. He sought to find the Corona Celena, and answer her call fully. The path he followed took him even higher up the mountain’s side, and by the side he reached the open plateau, he was panting, though his eyes were bright with energetic enthusiasm.

The she-wolf standing before him was a quietly powerfully figure. The scent of blood was heavy, but she wore it with elegance. The moon hung in the sky above her, seeming to mark her as the queen of this region as its glow highlighted the silver in her coat. Nootau paused in awe a moment before he came to his senses and realized the apparent severity of the wound. He told her with concern, “Moonglow, my name is Nootau. I know I am new to you… but may I help you with your wound? I’ve little knowledge about healing, but I know enough to know that wounds need to be cleaned.” He stepped forward once, his ears perked towards her in earnest.