Maybe it was because I often frequented the deep, dark woods instead of the presence of others when it was I could get away from the den. In the beginning Mother had been most adamant about our remaining in sight and safely in reach, but in the last few weeks she had grown more quiet and more into herself. With a mind so very young as my own, I did not entirely understand it, but I did understand that it meant I could get away from far more. And so when I could, I made a dash away from the den and into the woods and forest that was home. I did enjoy playing with my sisters, and watching the other wolves of the forest from afar; but my happiness truly lied in the heart of the forest. Where my light chocolate, tan, and pale russet flecked body melded so naturally and I knew where my paws would land before I even thought to place them.

One day, when I was much bigger than I am now, I knew I would travel the lands and see what there was to see. I knew I would one day see for myself the fields and the meadows Father spoke of, but it even seemed to me that as time went on I adored the woods more and more. They seemed to resonate within my small but broad chest, and my too big for me paws always felt just right against the soft forest floor. Today I am wanting to go as far as I have ever been before, for with the end of my first Summer comes my first Autumn, and with it new smells and sights and even places. My for now quaint and simple child mind becomes distracted rather easily, however, and I am passing by a rather large stream when golden tawny fur catches my bright sea foam teal eyes. She glistens in the sunlight upon her rock, this wolf I find myself looking at, and though I have yet to personally meet her I know by simple instinct that this wolf is family. Thus, she becomes my quest for the day, and growing creme legs are carrying my small body closer to her own.

Her eyes are closed, but the way her sides fall do not seem to be at ease enough for sleep. So I decide to call out to her, my youthful voice full of vigor and fire, something my Father has often called spunk. "Midna does know you, but she does not know you." My words are curious, also, both in tone and in their nature. Because I often times enjoy time with just myself, the trees, and the nymphs and faes all around, my speech is by a result something rather odd. But I have always enjoyed it, just as my sisters and both parents do. At least as far as I am aware. I hope this wolf might as well, whoever she is though I do not think I will leave her unknowing this day. "Who is this wolf?" I ask the golden-tawny-and-perhaps-even-a-little-creme one. I've come to a stop only a few feet from her rock, but my large pale paws are eager to draw me closer. And so I move forward more, until I am just barely close enough to reach out my hardest and touch her with my dark nose. I keep my distance for now, however, if only to see if she tells me who she is or if she will tell me to go away all together instead.