Somehow, she knew. Before she even opened her eyes, before his scent had reached her nose, before his voice drifted into her ears, Wren knew her soul had returned. Had it had been the butterflies in her stomach or the sudden warmth that filled her bloodstream? Perhaps it was the feeling that she was, at long last, whole again. Regardless, the details were irrelevant. Fate had brought the pair together again and they could begin anew with a clean slate. Bi-colored eyes opened, the colorful specks shimmering in the reflective water, and a soft smile touched her lips. There, before her in all his glory, was Zharko. He spoke her name, uttered an apology, and she is already shaking her head. Softly, she placed her paw on top of his. Shh. You have nothing to apologize for. What happened is in the past. I want to start over."

For the first time, Wren actually looked at the wolf who had given her his soul. His eyes were pools of blood. They had once been frightening, but now she could see the beautiful gold hidden in the center. His fur, once monotonous, now burst with a silver sheen color that reminded her of moonlight. Had she always been taller than he? Her memory of him made him seem like an intimidating giant, but as she saw him now, he was petite and agile. Finally, she noticed his tattered ear and scarred face. Even he had not escaped the wrath of Blackthorne it would seem.

Slowly, Wren reached her snout forward and calmly licked the scar on the left side of his face. In that moment, she knew she would never let anything hurt him again. "Did you know this is the farthest from Diveen I have ever been? I have always wanted to see more of Moladion but have never been brave enough to travel too far from home. I want to change that. I want to be brave." She spoke casually, as if she were confiding in an old friend. And, truth be told, she was.