I lay with in my den quite content with sleeping. Lately I have been sleeping far more than I really should have. Yet sleep is good. I like it. It brings me nothing, but numbness. I have not slept beside another wolf in an extremely long time. The last time I slept beside a wolf was with my Mother and that was only when I was nursing. When I was weaned and beginning to eat meat she would push me away when I sought out for her warmth and protection. Though she did not give that to me. When I sleep beside Sen I feel his warmth and I like how it floods into my own cold form. I hope he does not mind that I curl up beside him. I have sense his worry and his transgressions within the swamps, but I hope he sees that we are not all bad. The seeds that Sen makes me eat causes not only my muscles to not be sore, but it allows me to have dreamless sleep. It is good to dream of nothing. I do not see my parents in my mind. I am at peace when I sleep. I do not think and I do not worry and I simply do not feel. I am surrounded with the darkness in the den and I comforted by the presence of Sen and his strong and warm form. Though it would seem I actually do not feel him, because he is not here. When I lean into him, well I assume it is him, I awake with surprise. I had been leaning into the wall and not him. My dial rises as I look around and do not see him at all. With a heavy sigh I lay my head over my paws until I hear a mournful cry singled out for me, alone.

I am never called upon by the borders. No one has singled out their call for just me. It is not Mother, this I know, because her call I do not think would be so mournful. I know my call is, but this one mimics my own and carries more of an aged sound to it – confirming that the one who calls me has lived a longer life and met with many burdens. Slowly I rise up using the wall of the den as support. I have been doing much better, but I know there is much left to be done. Quietly I take a few steps forward to see if I have some strength to make the hike to the border. I know my walk will be a bit slow and I do not wish for the stranger to become irritable at my lack of swiftness. I take a few more steps forward as I throw my head back releasing a haunting mournful call, asking that they wait, and that I was coming. It takes awhile but finally my ebony and crimson form makes it towards the border, intense violet eyes narrow at the sight of the all white wolf. I am eager now. I have felt a great need to go to the white wolf that was kind to me in the fields where the bull elk laid dead. Yet I do not know his name or where he is from and I so desperately want to go to him, but I know I cannot travel long or far – I am still too sick. I inhale the cool autumn wind and it brings with it a familiar feminine scent. This wolf I know from a long time ago. With a wave of my russet banner it is done in a friendly gesture as I release a soft happy bark. I trip on my own paws a bit as I move a bit quicker. I have not seen her in a long time, the one that was kind to me in the Mountains, the one that gave me that special rock that I keep hidden within my den – it is mine and mine alone. I manage to right myself up as I duck my head and rest it along Natu’s back, pressing my form against her own in a content manner. My soft voice whispers as I close my eyes for a moment to rest.

“Hello Natu, Welcome to Iromar.”