I cannot believed I witnessed such a thing, such brutality and senseless killing. The body...it was barely a body anymore, so vicious had they been. I had tried though. I had found him in the lands beyond his home and mine, a mess of ravaged skin and blood and I had tried to fend them off, a task I barely succeeded in. I had tried to extend kindness to him, to offer him what little healing I knew but it was not enough. Perhaps I ought to have called for Zeltzin, for Hadrian or even Samia, but I had been confident in my skills. I had thought that I could do such a thing, as any alpha should be capable of. For a moment, I had even believed that it would bring the fields and Glorall closer; I thought that perhaps, I could mend this wolf well enough to return to his home. After all, no pack deserves to lose one of their own even if they are not a wolf beneath truce or treaty.

But, failure had intervened. There was too much blood and not enough fight left in him. All I could do now was lick my own wounds and begin my journey towards Asteraia. I had made it out well considering the conflict, a fact I am still grateful for as the aches and pains ebb and flow throughout me. I feel the warmth of the wounds fading as I continue forwards, calling out for Asteraia as the sun begins to rise. My voice is one of urgency, both for myself and for Asteraia. I must tell them and then, I must complete my initial journey and arrive at Taviora. Though the packs are close, I know my wounds will slow me and I do not wish to become the second victim this day come the night.

I find myself a place among their borders, allowing myself to lean upon a nearby boulder as I await their leaders or representative to arrive. I take the time to tend to my own wounds, erasing the scents of the free lands as I remove the blood, my muzzle already clean despite the collateral I had taken. Perhaps I exaggerate, the pain not so much as one might assume by looking at me, but each wound continues to resonate with pride and satisfaction. I am taking a gamble, yes, but I have been a liar since the day of my conception - it runs in my blood, and now, it will run through each generation hereon after. The wolf of Asteraia was murdered. He was taken by the cannibals of the free lands, those that refuse to heed to Asteraia's call and direction. To speculate, perhaps it was their hope to strike fear into Asteraia, to threaten the packs. They are uncontrolled like vermin.

When a wolf appears, I pick myself up, straightening my composure as I bow my head low in solemn greeting. I bring bad news and they ought to know before they arrive - my posture is low, shameful almost as I prepare to confess my sin of failure.