Foolish me for thinking I won't fall back and slip

Gabriel was still getting used to all this. Being with other wolves that weren't like him. Trying to communicate their way, with their voice, with their prose. Getting used to sleeping alone in a cold den, where he had been used to sleeping amongst dozens of his siblings in a cozy nest. There was no shield from the cold here; not so much physical, but the emotional husk that was left behind in his mind. The scars were a bitter, painful reminder of what he had endured. What the demon had taken away. His wings. His immortality.

How pitiful.

But Gabriel could do little about it; lamenting and moping would get him nowhere - such concepts were ties to strong mortal emotions he had yet to grasp while he was tethered to this plane. And he simply had to adapt to it. He was a born warrior after all, carved of flesh and blood and the feathers that once flew from his pale form. He would get them back..just not anytime soon.

The thin-legged creature happened to be skirting the coast, his cloak absorbing the brunt of the brisk winds and sword sheathed beneath it, when a call rang out into the air. Sharp, direct. Just for me. He was beginning to recognize when the authorities of this pack called him directly. He wondered if it was the norm for newcomer pack wolves to be scrutinized thoroughly for assessment's sake; but he didn't mind. In fact, he didn't really feel much at all. Perhaps emotion would come to him, in time. As he approached the figure who'd summoned him, paws barely indenting the sand as he got closer, he noticed she wasn't related to either of the wolves he'd initially met - she was of a rose hue, with patterning uniquely organized upon her frame. His salmon-hued eyes glanced at her with curiosity yet his expression remained blank as ever as he simply dipped his head politely and said monotonously, "Oh..I do not believe we have met. I am Gabriel."

"Speech!"

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