Taking Steps

Tail flicked uncertainly as he paused, looking out toward the battlefield. He?d avoided leaving Valhalla?s borders much, worried that his birth pack might attack Valhalla while he was wandering around. His tail tucked at the thought. But it had been quiet during his time with Valhalla. No dark wolves skulked around the areas, and he hadn?t smelled a Blackmoon scent in so long that he sometimes had to think to remember the smells. He had to remember them. Mud, pine, old blood. Shuddering, he paced.

Yssamega, however, had smelled different. There was a faint whisper of freshness to her, of flowers and water. But she could have changed. Could have become just like everyone else in that foul place. He hoped not. He hoped she had escaped.