He had been... away. Or at least, away is what he would later tell them. Where he had been for so long seemed like a complete mystery even to him; eventually, every tree looked the same and even faces... even they blended into a blur. Memories were just as unforgiving as time, he had learnt. After all, he had so few even here and yet, he knew in his very core that towards the mountains and the plains he had to go. Moladion had become a foreign word upon his tongue and yet, he could at least remember the vibrancy of his mother's eyes and the stern looks his father had always passed over his shoulder. He still remembered his cousin, a blur of grey across the fields of spring flowers as they flopped about, oblivious to the reality that surrounded them. The path back then had been a pleasant thing - beautiful, even - and so simple. Now, however, he felt his cracked and dry paws scrape along the snow as he moved across the valleys and hills.

Things hadn't exactly been hard, but they hadn't exactly been easy either. Everything had just been. He had seen his mother several times in the out lands, her spirit as lost as ever as she spoke of her sisters and father. Still, she had been beautifully at peace, searching and searching for the part of her soul that had vanished alongside his father. Ramiel, in his time, had learnt that there were more ways to lose one's soul, too. Not everybody lost it with love but rather hate; savage monsters in the skin of wolves had been a frequent thing out there. Alone, he had been able to avoid them, slinking by in the dead of night. He had learnt, though, and he had learnt that sometimes, you needed to just listen to yourself. The child within him had begged for Moladion and Moladion he had gone to. He had to admit. As he walked towards the mountain's slopes, he could remember it all now with a sudden clarity. It was a pain like no other and yet, a freeing one.

The sun had begun to rise from the ocean, dissipating the darkness he had traveled in and illuminating the snow in a peculiar shade of gold. By then, he had made it to the bottom of the territory's edges; it seemed different, and yet he could not remember why. He huffed in frustration, his head shaking as he fought to better understand just what was missing. It was as if somebody had but moved a stone, and yet it threw him off completely. However, he did at least recognize the scent of his cousin, now matured and strong across the wind. Things, however, had not clicked so well. He had become enchanted, after all, by the sheer idea of being back. Why would he ever have considered what had happened here? That his father had returned only to vanish again? That his grandparents now lay beneath a stone wall of remembrance? He had been but a two year old when he had left Moladion. He felt like a child again.

Finally, he paused completely in the open, stifling a shiver from the strong winds that blustered down the mountains. Had it always been so cold? He could not say. All he could do was stand there waiting, raising his muzzle to the sky and calling down whoever sat upon the throne of stones now.