Nirvana awakens -

He does not remember much of his sleep, but he does remember the time before it. When he had been a cancer to those around him without cure, simply growing and infecting until the act itself became stale. As time passed the wolf had grown bored with the world, he had seen so many things, had met so many others who never understood him; except for the little girl with those innocent eyes who asked him if the whispers in his head were bad things.

If nothing else, he remembers her, he longs for her. But she is gone like everything else, trapped in the years that made up her life in another place. Nirvana knows he will never see her again, at least not in this life and probably not in the next - creatures like him didn’t go to nice places when they died.

The world is glaringly bright as he moves through it, allowing him vague outlines and distorted images. He preferred the darkness, he had been born under a blood moon, but the night was absolute for him - he could not see unless the sun was up. The black wolf walks slowly between the trees, feeling the ground beneath his paws and recalling the place of his birth. He had grown up in a forest much like this, where even the days were hard to decipher from the bitter nights.

Nirvana can smell her before he sees her, no more than a lump off to his right; something vulgar and awful and twisted. He tilts his head in her direction, listening. Hunger gnawed at his insides, he had not eaten in a few days, hunting was hard for an older wolf like him; he had thought about eating any pup that might wander too close, that would easy enough to catch and consume. It was a plan if nothing else, but for now, his focus is on the other wolf.