Kenelm's ears flattened a bit as he flinched from Morgan's words. He had thought of that, of course - what would he do if Calanthe happened to appear somewhere he had already looked, having somehow managed to travel in a different direction than the one he had chosen on instinct alone? He might chase her around this wild land forever at that rate...



He shook away such chilling thoughts with a slight shake of his muzzle. He had thought of it, and he had a plan for just such an eventuality. "Ask her to stay," he told Morgan, his voice shaking somewhat. "If you can, offer her a place with your pack - or send her to any others you know of. And if--" No, his voice broke for a moment. Voicing his impossible hope was almost a greater pain than imagining that she might already be... "If she already has a pack... tell her to go back to them and stay there. Tell her I'm looking for her; tell her I will find her."


He shook his head again, shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. A large part of him wished he could stay here, wished he could take Morgan up on her offer and beg asylum among her pack of her King Gaheris and Lady Kay. It was so tempting - how long had he gone without a den? Without pack mates to speak to? Without a steady, dependable supply of food to keep him healthy? How long had he been all alone, chasing a whim and a prayer? His legs shook at the idea of going on like that again.


"I have to keep looking for her," he whispered hoarsely. "As much as I would like to stay... she is out there, all alone and probably afraid, and I'm the only one looking for her. There are no others left." He raised a sorrowful gaze to Morgan's eyes. "I cannot look for her if I'm bound to a pack, Morgan. I have to find her before anything else can happen."

Morgan's words were very odd to hear, but not enough so to shock Kenelm away from the growing weight that settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach. Just because the "nameless spirit" had been nothing more than a gambit to control his own pack through fear, there was no reason for him to believe other deities were all equally made up. Perhaps the god Morgan was referring to was something more than a scary story created in some mad man's atelier and enforced by whoever her King and Queen were. In any event. It truly didn't matter to the ashen man at this point. It was all he could do to muster a forced smile for the younger wolf as she promised to pass his instructions on to Calanthe - if Calanthe ever came wandering this way.


Trying his best to hide his own sorrow, Kenelm dragged himself back onto his travel-sore feet and dipped his head in gratitude to Morgan. Yet another wolf had failed to give him any leads on his missing sibling, but he could hardly hold that against Morgan - or against any of the others, truth be told. It seemed this epic quest of his was simply one he would be doomed to walk alone, at least for a while longer yet. "I thank you for your willingness to help me, Morgan," he told her honestly. "Travel safely back to your pack."


He turned away when she did, though his pace was much slower than the other's as he trudged slowly southward yet again. She had a home to return to - a pack. A family. A future that promised nothing but bright things for her. And Kenelm? All that Kenelm had was an unending stretch of wild, unknown, certainly dangerous, perhaps uninhabited stretch of wilderness ahead of him, and a growing doubt that he would ever find the one he sought. Perhaps he would spend his whole life wandering, always alone, always searching for what was no longer there to be found. Maybe this was his punishment for attempting to find Calanthe from the start rather than returning immediately to the den site when the fire broke out.


Had one wolf really been worth all of this? Was she still?


And now I'm all alone again, he thought as his paws dragged through the grass. Nowhere to go. No one to turn to. Disturbingly enough it was a feeling he was swiftly becoming used to. Perhaps one day he would reach a point where he actively avoided pack wolves like Morgan - perhaps, one day, he might even become as feral and unreasonable as that poor bastard from the fjord. Kenelm hardly had the energy to be chilled by such a morbid thought anymore.


The road stretched on ahead of him, bleak and shadowy and filled with what he could only hope was an end to his long, long journey. Calanthe wasn't out there, and accepting that thought took some of the weight away from the rock in his belly, though what remained sharpened with grief at the idea. He would go on looking; nothing could act as a sturdy enough barricade to prevent him from continuing onward. Even that was only because his own conscience would never let him stop, not unless something more important came along.