I have returned back to Iromar, for the time being, and it feels odd to be back in the wetlands. I have just come back from Spirane and I hoped to divulge my information to Andras. I want him to see me not as a worthless whelp. I know who my Father is and I do not need anyone to remind me. It is a shame that I carry quietly. Not once have I spoken ill about him to the others. If anyone ever addresses him to me I simply move the conversation in another direction. It is my way to deflect their cruel words and whatever misguided thoughts they have of me. I did speak with Ruvindra about him, about why everyone in the pack treats him as they do and if it was truly in regards to his pelt. It still makes me a bit confused as to why we are not allowed to like wolves tainted with white…we’ve accepted some that are pure white into our fold, and they hold higher ranks, so why can’t Father be seen as something great. Who cares about appearances? Shouldn’t all that matter is action? Sure Father cowers and runs and shakes, but they made him like that. He could change. At least, he tried with Andras and failed miserably, but he tried, isn’t that all that matters?

I think for a two year old I am coming along nicely. I am slowly starting to fill out with some meat on my bones. It had been difficult at first after Mother left me, but she left me with the tools and skills to hunt for myself. Though I could hardly catch anything since I was so small. I am not sure if it was out of guilt or Andras’ orders, but every once in awhile I’d come out of my den and see scraps of meat, enough for me to have my stomach half full. Over time I could manage to feed myself without help. Sure my game was always small and barely held meat, but my marksmanship was improving greatly and when I am hungry I never care to think whether or not I cannot catch my meal. My prey has to fear me because I will always catch them, always. As I start entering the outskirts of the swamp my nose picks up a familiar, but old scent, and I follow it simply curious as who it belongs to. Eventually I make it closer and I see an ebony wolf with her tail marked oddly with crimson. I remember seeing her when I was a pup, but I hardly ever tried to make myself known by others. Everyone seemed antsy and would jump at anyone or anything, and I found that staying quiet meant no one would look at me. I hated seeing their eyes narrow when they looked to my small frame. I had no parent to protect me, so I was free game, if a hunt didn’t go as planned. I give a muffled woof to the she-wolf assuming that this Demon would be somewhat friendly. She still held a rank above me, and she was still considered a Demon, so naturally my head would lower slightly with respect as I managed to stop and sit a few feet away from her.

“Hello…welcome back.”

My voice is horse and soft all because I barely ever use it. Though I do smell of Diveen. I had been trying to wash that scent off me. Over the spring I stayed there for awhile allowing them to heal and feed me. I had been attacked, but reassured that it was not one of their own. Some massive black wolf with haunting green eyes attacked me and they all said I was lucky to be alive. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone that I was attacked…I am afraid it would result into some members within our pack to do foolish things. Like one of Andras’ sons…he foolishly tried to kill the Diveen King and he died as a result. Andras wasn’t too pleased about it and I hardly wanted to give him reason to even be more than disappointed in my. Healing scars remained along my neck and shoulder, evidence of Tobias’ attack, but the fur was growing over and the pain wasn’t as bad. I just hope that this Demon doesn’t think less of me.