C'mon Baby, Light My Fire

Wraith stalked through the wooded area as though he owned it, following the twisting path without hesitation. He'd explored this maze thoroughly and carefully from the time he was old enough to come here on his own. This land held no surprises for him - except the sudden appearance as he turned a corner of the nebulous form of Mithras. As used to the unusual foreign wolf as he'd become, the swirling night-colors of the male's pelt was still startling for a moment before he adjusted. "Mithras. You look lost," he said dryly, the double meaning behind the words plain. The adopted Diamachi did, indeed, look as though he were lost in the thought of some trouble, and not the immediate trouble of the maze either. "I was thinking of gathering some of our family," the words a tacit acceptance of Mithras as family that some months before he might not have spoken, the gentle teasing even more so, "to raid one of those northern packs everyone's so fascinated with, but you don't much look fighting fit, old man. Too bad."

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