Well- someone is a little morbid. Death comes to us all. Alright then. As for choosing how you go I am not entirely sure that is wholly accurate but he seems to be on some sort of mission so I see no need to offer him anything other than rapt attention, determined to keep my features neutral despite the nervousness I felt inside, merely offering him an interested but intrigued look all the same, something akin to bemusement really as he said his own time was soon. Maybe he was going to jump off a cliff and save us all the effort but I truly doubt that- most never seem to run to their own deaths so willingly, although I suppose that is debatable. Covet signed his own death notice the day he decided he could take Spirane because his poor little feelings got hurt and I am rather sure he was aware of that. It hardly mattered anymore. He was gone and forgotten and would remain that way if I had anything to do with it, a speed bump in my plans and little else now that it was taken care of- this white fellow my new target of interest. He had been to Diveen to leave a trace? Had he wanted someone to follow him? Then again I hadn’t followed him exactly. No, I was a loner merely sunning myself beneath the scrub bush today whom he had happened to chance upon, my head tilting slightly one more in genuine confusion this time.

“Why would you want to leave a trace though, what if they got mad and followed you?”

It was a difficult thing, to attempt to sound juvenile though I think I did a fairly decent job. I was a child after all, my voice still light and youthful, his next words however only seemed to be all the more confusing. Taken someone from him? An Angel following him? I turned my head slightly to look the way he had come, seeing nothing but empty space and open fields. Whoever was following him was either exceptionally good at blending into dirt- or so bad at following that they actually….didn’t exist. Maybe he was delusional. I attempted a look of concern all the same, frowning slightly as I turned back towards him. Clearly an Angel had done something to his family once upon a time.

“My brother.”

The answer came quickly, smoothly as I faced him once more.

“My parents were wolves the Angels didn’t like, Demons they called them, I was lucky, I was born grey and brown and without the russet marks but my brother was darker, like our mother and born with our Father’s russet marks and they hated him for it- they came for him. Why would they hate you though, your white, don’t they like that?”

The words were innocent, curious as any child would surely be as I sat before him still- this wolf I suspected entirely may well be the Zeus the others had mentioned. How many other aged white wolves who disliked Angels existed?



m a j o r a
in disguise, cannot be identified