A butte is an isolated hill with steep, often vertical sides and a small, relatively flat top; buttes are smaller than mesas, plateaus, and table landforms. He had finally found a sense of peace and tranquility in his body. He understood everything and every bit as he wandered through the recovered forest. He was climbing up a steep hill as he made his way to the top of the butte. The forest was fairly TUMULTUARY but that was alright. He could see so far as he stood by a burnt sycamore tree. There was a river just down below that flowed around the butte and he could see the Ghastly Woods though not quite as far as to see the Keep territory. It was breathtaking.

The boy smiled, for the first time in a while, because he was in a peaceful place with few cares in the world. It was perfect, almost too perfect, and a place he would surely visit again in the future. He sat down on his bum, his front paws directly in front of them as he let out a long howl. What was he howling about? His father, his mother, his mama Ana. He was howling about his losses, letting them go one last time so he might move on to achieve the newest goal he had set for himself. He was going to reform Pitch Pine Trail in his own image. He was going to learn from the mistakes his father made. He was going to leave Cut Rock River, should he achieve this goal, with the hopes of being on god terms with Maksim and Kisla. Perhaps he had too high of hopes.

He was moving on from the life he once lived. He would move on but never forget. He would never forget and never forgive. He would, however, focus one something other then revenge.

More importantly, he would always defend his family, even if they were dead.