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I find myself moving over the borders of Glorall, needing to get some air for a little while and just get out in the world and see it. I feel accomplished over my talk with Jaidah, like maybe something good will come out of all this in the end. At least she seems like a very intelligent female and also very beautiful, but way too dangerous for my taste. I'm a talker, not a fighter so a female that likes to fight as much as she does? Way too reminescent of my sister, Viora. The grassy plains are soothing to my nerves as I try to think how I'm going to talk to Eden, how to go about my next phase of helping him in the pack so I can become his next Arbitrator. I know I'm not the only one going for the spot but I hope I'm proving my worth with talking to Jaidah and seeking out other members of the pack to find out their opinions on their alpha and their pack life. I wish I could get more wolves out of hiding but it seems Glorall just isn't interested in being a very social crowd. Guess I'll have to look elsewhere for invigorating conversation. When I step off the cool grass into the sand surrounding the large lake here, I find myself looking out over the surface. I wonder what Enigma would say if she was here, what Cobryn would say? Would they be proud of my accomplishments or would they want me to be a warrior like my father? A wolf out of justice? Should I be hunting down my mother's murderer? The odd thing is, the description of the Asteraia queen, the one everyone titles the Monster, seems to fit the description of the wolf that ripped my mother's throat out right in front of me. Could it be? I'm left with another challenge. If it is in fact her, what would I do should Eden ask me to meet with her? Talking to Jaidah is one thing, but facing the one who took my mother's life? I don't even know what I'm capable of anymore. Ever since I fought that wolf with Solitaire and accidently took his life, I don't even trust myself, not when I defend someone I care about. I look up from my daydreams when I hear someone else crunching on the sand. My ears flicker alertly as I turn my head, curious to see who's nearby. Tristan.male.8 years old.son of |