I have yet to confront my father about the...information I was provided by my apparent grandmother. It has weighed on my mind a bit, but it doesn't exactly bother me. More just a stinging curiosity. There were so many things that were odd and strange about that experience. Ever since then, this dark female that was with her became permanently tangled within my mind.

In fact, I find myself spending more and more time lingering closer to the side of Glorall that leads to Iromar. Perhaps the draw that I have is growing stronger as I am away from her. I am certain of what it is, but what to do with it? I feel my heart beating in the swamps, but my origins are in the oceans. I let my dark black paws take my along closer to the border, but I am not so smitten that I ignore my surroundings.

My ears flicker on this nice spring day, with the sun in the air and the wind touching my fur. I hear my name echoing through the land, and I turn my head in the direction. I do not see anyone initially, so I turn and move with a swift lope. It takes but a moment for my father to come into view. I let a grin play on my grey and black muzzle.

I am always pleased to see my family. They are everything and my very own blood. My father is the leader of many wolves here, a respected figure. I can only hope to be respected and known as he is, and yet I know that I am certainly very different from my father. I slow my pace as I approach him, lowering my head a bit in a dip of greeting. I...I still have not told him that I saw Mother on that day long ago. I saw her, and got to feel her touch again, but she...she left, and I still do not understand why...why she would leave us again. I am sure my smile weakens as the thought clings to my heart.

"Father, it is good to see you. I have...been wanting to speak with you," I say, my head lifting. I show my father his respect, but I am always naturally confident. I hold my head high, in the position I have eared before him, and also as his son, grown full and hopefully something he could be proud of. I wonder if he had come to speak with me about his own matters, or pack matters, but perhaps we do need to spend more time to talk.