It had been weeks since I had seen him last. The scene played out vividly in my mind; one moment he was there, and the next, he was gone. For a fleeting moment I had felt some semblance of completeness, having finally sorted out where my heart and soul belonged. And in a flash of teeth and words it had vanished. I knew he lingered on the mountain, his vows not forgotten. For the first few weeks after the fight, he had left me prey outside of my den entrance every morning. But when I had regained full function of my tail and my other wounds had ceased to ache, I had begun hunting again and the morsels had ceased. Still, I knew he had not gone completely, for his scent often lingered outside my den in the mornings. Always he was nearby, but never to be seen. He had receded to the shadows once more. And I ached for him.

It was not for lack of searching that I had not seen him. He did not wish to be found, and so I could not locate him. But perhaps he would come to me. I moved up the mountain, a most certain place in mind where I would wait for him. It was the break of day, the sun just peeking over the eastern horizon to cast her morning glow upon the mountain, as I began my ascent. Further and further I rose, moving with the rays of the sun until I nearly reached the peak. But before I took that final path that would bring me to the summit, I turned away from the trail and delved through the sparse upper woodlands. Finally I came to a clearing, and at its center stood an immense boulder. Most wolves would not think if possible to climb. But I knew, had scrambled to its zenith when I was only a year old to stand next to my painted warrior.

Breaking into a lope, I ran towards the boulder, launching at the last minute. My paws gripped the small outcroppings and pushed again, leaping with grace to the smooth surface atop the rock. I smiled to myself, remembering the way I had once scrabbled up here as a youth. Turning, I faced the rising sun. It was mid morning now. I looked around, watching the trees, thinking I might catch a glimpse of his movement. But there was nothing. I moved forward, laying down and letting my front paws hang over the rock’s edge. My crown remained aloft, watching for him. Waiting for him.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually my dais lowered, resting upon my forelimbs. Never did my eyes close, always watching the shadows. Some part of me thought he might not reveal himself. But if ever there was a time he would, wouldn’t here be the place?

Softly, perhaps only to myself, or maybe to his ever near yet ever distant presence, I whispered, “Leonidas.”