I find myself, right here, right now, in a world so different than the one by the river. Where the river was flowing liquid, all around me I am surrounded by solid rock. No matter how much I hop up to place my white paws against their surfaces, and push with alllll my mighty might, they do not move, they don't even budge! I am perplexed by my findings, regardless of the frequency I actually come into contact with rocks. I think things differently, that is all, it is what I tell myself anyway, and therefore it is true. Suddenly I find my mouth opening and sounds releasing unbidden to dance off the rock faces in volume and mimicry. "Haaaaa- rooooo!" Maybe it sounded vaguely like hello, and maybe it did not. I did not exactly choose to say or make it, but it came from my mouth anyway, and that was that. Toxic eyes with their band of golden orange around the pupil are wide as they roam around each crevice and each nook. Never have I been to a place with so many rocks, and so many rocks that are one whole giant rock! I have been many places in my time away from time, and each one is new and different from the last. Even if I have been to a place before, it is still all brand new.

More often than not, I see things with fresh eyes regardless of time passing between each glance. With my small white paws carrying me deeper into this rocks, I get the feeling suddenly that I am not very much alone. This is a place frequented by wolves, if not less than the other places, but it is the sound I am hearing that tells me someone is here. It comes from all angles, bouncing off the walls at me and it sounds as if nails are grating against the rock. I do not find it at all an unpleasant sound, though, and so my small mostly white fourm is rushing ahead to find what I might. And when I make my way around a bend, I have to put the brakes on HARD for there is the most massive wolf I have ever seen EVER standing in front of me. I am at his back, however, so I see mostly his brindled hocks but I am flabbergasted all the same. I stand there, unmoving, my petite jaws hanging open as toxic green eyes can do nothing but stare. It was he who made the noise, for the noise still comes from him. I cannot see what he is doing, but it does not have to do with his claws but rather his teeth. A grinding noise I sense it is now, and I am craning my neck around in an exaggerated manner to try and see what he is doing better. Undoubtedly he knows I am here, and has more than likely turned to face me, but I cannot get so hopeful. Not yet.

I must wait to see if he will turn to me, and only then can I approach him truly and see what it is he does with his mouth. Until then, I can do nothing but remain rooted to the spot, moving my neck this way and that, leaning up on my tiptoes to try my best to see him in a better light. Perhaps I should find his size daunting, and the noise equally unsettling- but I feel no such things. I do not feel the normal things that others do, mostly a morbid sense of curiosity and a general lack of care for all things. The combination is most interesting, though I don't exactly think of it that way. I more so think of the here and now, and the fact that I really want to see what's in his mouth. So I wait for him to come to me or for the chance to dance ahead of him to satisfy myself.