Perfect white paws carried the girl,if she could even be called that anymore, across the fields. So much time had passed since she had last stood here, last hunted here, last seen him here. And then there was the other him. She bites back any emotion that might try to rear its uglyhead. She looks around for a moment having forgotten already where she was. Lips pull back revealing stained daggers that threaten imaginary foes.

Then suddenly its over. She remembers. Her strides resume.

Her face settles back into a look of cool, calm disdain that seems to say she thinks any and everything is beneath her. A look the angel marked wolf had carried since birth. Her thoughts again return to Heyel. i paenitet patris (I am sorry father) For a fleeting moment she can hear his comforting voice telling her and her sisters stories about the angel marks. She shakes her forcefully. The thoughts will do know good.

She freezes her head swinging to the left as she snarls low and menacingly at seemingly nothing. But she can see them. Even if no one else can.

As quickly as she had stopped she starts again porcelain paws trampling lightly across the grass, her steps measured with a practiced grace. She keeps her mind pointedly empty. She doesn't want to think of the distinct lack of Heyel's smell anywhere. Or the way she can pick up the faintest trace of death. No she doesn't want to think at all about the things she lost. It doesn't matter. She will get it back, she will get them all back, she will get him back. They are hers, HE was HERS. She bares her teeth this time at life not imaginary demons.

She looks around suddenly as if caught off guard. Where was she again?