He continues to move about the mass of wolves in search of this one particular individual; someone whom he could speak with and learn more of, someone who could teach him of so many things and names and places that cannot be found in Iromar.

Moments pass by and he is stepping to go around one dark coated lupine when his jade and pink eyes fall upon the angelic figure of another just beyond the sea of faces. For a singular moment in time, all appears to be frozen around him, bitten by the frost that bears down heavily upon Moladion and a fierce burning sensation rises from the pit of his stomach, through his lungs, and out his muzzle in a release of breath turned to smoke into the frigid air. But the burning does not recede and only becomes worse as she now glides toward him and a clenching feeling overwhelms him, as if some otherworldly force is trying to drag him closer to her, urging him. He knows of what this feeling it, though it is different for all, he has heard of the stories that were passed around the moorland and he is certain that this is it.

He has found his soul.

She is closer now than before and it is not until she is nearly upon him that he realizes she is taller than he already, though she cannot be much older. But such technicalities did not douse the fire that raged within him for this unknown, ethereal being. She spoke, her voice feminine and smooth like fine silk, a pleasure to his eagerly awaiting ears as he hangs on her every word. But they are not the introduction that he was prepared to hear and instead she lowers her head and apologizes for mistaking him. No. This was no mistake - they were fated for one another and he would not let her get off so easily if that was what she wished.

He did not speak, he simply watched in silence before she began to make her way from the group, and he was soon in pursuit. Malum would not let her get away with such absurd excuses and he will make sure that she is aware of what has occurred between them both sooner than later. His eyes remained trained on her retreating figure as she weaves her way to the outer rim of the gathering and he is quickly sidling up to her left, pale eyes intent upon her own as he pivots around to confront her directly. The closeness of which sends that flame blazing, his heart pumping wildly, and the tight hold upon his stomach bursting into a flurry of butterflies. It was euphoric and an entirely welcomed feeling as he stares into her eyes now. “You cannot leave; I need to know you.” Strange, awkward, creepy. Perhaps all of those were words to describe the boy and in some shape or form they were true.

If she were not deterred by the weirdness of his words or actions then surely he would be allowed around her more often than not. That is what he wished to be so.