He stuck to the shadows, barely making a mark anywhere he went. He truly felt like a ghost, like the assassin he was supposed to be trained to be before his trainer up and disappeared without a trace, much like a ghost herself. Not being able to speak had made him more adept at staying silent, because he was more honed to listen and it made him think more about the other sounds he was still making. He learned how to muffle his paws in the grass or even on crackly leaves. He even tuned his breathing to the shallow breezes that blew through Moladian, making his heart race match that of the birds chirping or the chatter of the squirrels overhead. It was like music and he was the maestro, making it all come together so sweetly. But truly he just felt alone and he didn't like it so he took to following others and watching them go about their life. He still kept watch over his family. He could see his father was slowing and wondered how much longer he had on the earth.

His litter mate sister started sticking closer to her parents but Eztli couldn't bring himself to come closer. Not when his father had pulled away from his own mother just as easily. He made his choice so Eztli made his own. Sure, Tuari taught him how to communicate better with his handicap but she was still the wolf that split his family and some things can't be forgiven. He moved into the crags, not sure what he would find with all the rain and he came up short when the smell of an Iromar wolf hit his nostrils. They wrinkled at the strong perfume but he peered through the brush anyway, taking in the female who puzzled over a stick that smelled of Taviora. Did that really surprise her? The rain had displaced everything. He stepped out where she could see him but kept his distance. His fur shivered as he looked over the water as well, taking in all the damage.

As her gaze swept upriver, so did his own, mimicking her actions even as a part of him waited for her to notice him.