Snow still baffled me. Growing up and living the better part of my life in the desert meant that I had never seen snow before I wandered far away from those lands. And even though it had been some four years since first I had left the ever-dry dunes of my homeland, the falling of snow was still something of a wonderment to me. To know that the air was so cold that it possessed the power to freeze the rain as it descended from the heavens was a most peculiar thing. As I lowered my nose to sniff at the premature crocus – which even in its beauty was sure to be smothered and die in the next snowfall – I pressed the black of my nose into the white of the powder that surrounded it. I scooped away the snow, giving the flower the best chance for the short life that it would live. Perhaps I would not be the only blessed with its beauty before its existence was snuffed out.

Lifting my eyes of swirling orange hues, I gazed out across the meadow once more, lingering near the flower and hoping that perhaps there was someone I could share this rare beauty with. It was then that I spotted another wolf across the meadow, her tail soaring behind her with glee as she made her way through the snow. My own tail lifted slightly, waving back and forth at the realization that I was not alone this day. Today I would meet another of my pack.

She swept across the meadow with a grace that only one who had known snow all her life could master. I could not begin to imagine how foolish I would look if I attempted the same – for my stature was much slighter than hers. However, given my lighter weight I did find it easier to remain atop the snow, rather than plunging down through it as many others did. Rather than flinch back from her quick approach, I simply lifted a single paw and shielded the small flower the best that I could, so that I might be able to share it with her.

For a moment when I first meet her gaze I am speechless, for the dark violet that is the base color of her irises so greatly reminds me of Kebechet’s eyes, though hers had been striated with the orange of my own eyes. I simply stare for a moment, barely hearing her greeting as I remember her, and all that I had lost. But the way the girl before me’s voice rises at the end pulls me back to reality, blinking away the recollections as I realize she has asked for my name.

“Ahlan; ismee Anubis,”

I say, the memories of my former life so easily pulling my tongue back to the Arabic I had spoken all my life. Remembering myself, I smile and speak once more so that she will know I can in fact speak the common tongue of Moladion.

“I am Anubis; and it has been twelve years since my first mewl was heard upon the desert sands far and away north and west of here.”

It was a land I doubted many of this realm had ever heard of or cared to venture to. Only the male upon the plains had the slightest inkling of where I originated from, for he too was of a desert lineage, though one far removed from my own.

“And what is I calling you?”

My thick Arabic accent wrapped around each word as I spoke. It was then that I realized my paw was still dangling in midair in defense of the tiny flower, and I lowered it and brushed away the snow her movements had still managed to cast upon it. Only when I was satisfied that it would be easily visible to her did I withdraw my paw and set it back alongside my other forepaw, looking back up to her. I would not upbraid her for dusting the flower with snow in her movements, and my gaze was simply curious and in waiting of her reply.