Which is the Voice that I was Meant to Hear?

In my heart I don't feel part of so much I've known

Now it seems it's time to start,

A new life on my own


. . .

Champion had been expecting, well, maybe a returning howl or two, then a scent steadily growing closer - perhaps a bit of running on her part to shorten the distance. But instead, she found the male appearing like a puff of smoke from the watery shadows of the lake's banks. Champion's ears swiveled round. Wine colored eyes settled on a face she knew rather well. "It's good to see you, Vio," she murmured, watching the male's movements as he walked over. She was almost disappointed when he sat down.

Wait, what? Inwardly Champion blinked, but she didn't have time to figure out her own insides. She was too complicated at the moment. She focused on her current company:

Vioxes, the hunter turned tresspasser turned slave turned companion. Champion, well, she had liked the little black striped male from the beginning. She had feared for him that Newt's sentencing would be death and she had stepped up and thrown the proverbial wing over him. But Vioxes wasn't a chick to be gathered underfoot. And Champion was certainly no mother hen. Whatever they had been during their all too short time in Amenti, it had resembled something more like traveling companions or even playmates than anything like master and servant.

She had never really bothered with wondering by Vioxes had stuck around, or seemed to enjoy her company so much. Nor had she thought much about how he would feel when she'd suddenly disappeared. That.... that was rude of her, wasn't it? She should have known better. But then again, inside she was still such a pup about some things. And now she was feeling guilty. She felt her own hindquarters sinking to the ground. Her tail was still hitched up in a husky-curl around her hip, but her ears dropped a little. She was not the sort to just say sorry about something. And after all, Vio didn't look like he was mad. Maybe she ought to just forget about the past and try to muddle through the present. "How-how are you?" she asked simply. She didn't know why she was stammering. Just a few days ago she had one of the strongest women in the world - she'd met up with a white male whose eyes were as red as her own and they'd traded such looks and words... It had awakened something in her that she knew very little about, but had proven quite powerful. Too powerful in fact, she'd ended up more or less daunting the male. Just one more soul to add to the list.



. . .

But where do I go from here?

So many voices ringing in my ear

Which is the voice that I was meant to hear?