Wearily he stumbles over an exposed tree root, somehow managing to catch himself before falling on his face. Distant suns twinkle like gems in a pool of deep blue above him and yet sleep evades him. He’s found that this mortal existence has cursed him with the inability to rest his consciousness.

Painted in hues of dark blue and shadowy black, the trees around him sway gently with the wind, their creaking sounding more like song than groans of movement. All else is silent. Whether by fear or uncertainty of his presence or the simple fact that most living things were slumbering by now.

Agony has become a constant pang deep in his chest, like an ever present companion. While his most recent interaction with none other than a witch of this realm was a small distraction, it didn’t last enough to do much good with his torment. He feels as if he is on the verge of tears at every passing moment and yet there are none left to cry. His body aches from sorrow, depression, and the phantom pains where his angelic wings had once been. So far there is no answer that can assuage his discomforts.

But he finds that there is no reason to stop moving and so he’s continued on from the crags and up through the forest. His legs ache from constant use and his belly now rumbles for something to give him energy. There’s no drive for him to do what normal wolves would do; there’s only sorrow. So he treks aimlessly through the trees and thickets of the north in search of nothing, but only wanting to keep moving as a way to escape his emotions.

He aches to find Gabriel and the others, but knows not whether they are here or elsewhere. He wants for something that, in the back of his mind, he knows isn’t possible. They’re gone; all of them… gone.

His focus fades in and out as he moves along at a slow pace, though the sound of another nearby is the only thing to cause him to pause for a moment. ”מי שם? (who’s there?)” he asks in a forlorn manner.