There are days, although rare in number, when all semblance of responsibility leaves a being, and he is free to follow the will of his heart wherever it may take him. On such days, the dawn shines too brightly to face, and the cold grip of winter is loosened for a moment to remind of the promise of spring. The birds sing their dawn chorus as a well-versed choir, and tiny clouds as white as lambs or freshly fallen snow skid across the azure blue of the endless sky. Kneph had awoken to just such a morning, and he felt a tingle in his pads that drove him from his makeshift den beneath a tumble of boulders and into the crisp air. All around him the trees exhaled, their breath clouding above them almost as his own did, so that he was want to believe that they too looked down upon him with understanding, concealing souls beneath those gnarled trunks. He shook out his fluffy blue-grey pelt and yawed hugely, lips drawing up to reveal a row of sharp canines that gleamed a healthy alabaster. A little to his left the river gurgled a lazy course through Moladion. He fixed his enchanting eyes upon it, watching it as it moved towards Iromar; towards home. How he longed to return there, but fear held him captive. He wondered whether Aithne would still accept him if her plans to chase away his recurrent ghosts failed. Would she deem him irreparable and cast him out to wander again? This he did not know, and so he had chosen to follow the river instead of face her again. What a coward.

He started and shook himself again, ridding his mind of the troublesome thoughts as though they were flies to be shooed away, knowing full well that, just as flies do, they would soon return to bother him again. Still, not even ideas of that ilk could dampen his good mood, and he turned his nose North, ambling slowly along the grassy banks. He noted how dawn paled smoothly into day, no sharp transition descending to throw his world into chaos. It seemed that even his uninvited counterparts were enjoying their surroundings too much to be bothered with tormenting him. Or perhaps it was the perfume of winter that called them. Kneph found himself wondering whether winter in the ghost world brought with it such an incomparable scent, and came to the conclusion that no other world could hold such magic for a male. The very breath of the cold months was laden with aromas as sweet as spring flowers, and they stirred the loins of the dumb as well. Kneph could feel the pull as he passed by markings left by other wolves. He longed to veer away and follow one, but something held him back, and he found himself wondering whether the alphess of Iromar was the reason for his reluctance. Something about her red and black pelt had drawn him from the first moment he laid eyes on it and, though he was certain she did not care for him, he found himself wishing she would. Another reason why he had abandoned the swamplands for awhile, despite his hunting successes there.

The wolf was handsome, of that there was no doubt, but his disability and fear of the ghosts that haunted him leant him a strangeness that others couldn't help but notice. He drew attention wherever he went, although more often than not it was the kind of attention he would rather have done without, and so he avoided other wolves wherever he could. Unfortunately though, on this day fate had another idea. A figure appeared a ways ahead of him, possibly enjoying as he did the beauty of the afternoon. He sniffed the air and sniffed again, taking in her fragrance while he decided what to do. He could approach her, and risk her stares or the suffocating nearness of his demons or, he could turn away and forget he had seen her. Kneph chose the latter, and was about to melt away, when he realised that he had too long tarried. She had seen him, and to walk away so suddenly would be a blatant offence. He sighed, for he was nothing if not a gentleman, and waited for her to approach. While she drew ever nearer, he admired her bi-coloured pelt and the magnificent way it intermingled, drawn by the uniqueness of it. Only when she was within hearing distance did he dip his head to her and give a brief wave of his tail, fixing those pale, pale eyes upon her sharp green ones. He stood still, his ears slightly back to show he was no threat, wondering how long it would take her to realise he was a mute.