The mountain was as unforgiving as they remembered, piles of snow and ice, blown into miniature storms that whipped their face with painful stings. To most wolves, it surely must seem a God’s forsaken place, but not to the witch. In fact, they had never felt closer to the higher power guiding them than they did on the peak – the brutality of its nature a mirror of The God’s cold, unforgiving authority. It would take time and effort, carving out a life here, but the one-eyed prophet was determined to do so, or die trying.

Walking along the perilous mountain roads, paying careful attention to where they put every paw, Apolline had no particular destination, simply letting impulse guide their path. Pareyl’s pack had yet to fully take form, as he awaited the right moment for their first sacrifice, and the witch eagerly awaited The God’s sign, spending hours wandering like this, turning over their recent dreams, searching for meaning.

One figure that had been recurrent lately, was a pale wolf of small stature, their face always obscured yet something about them made Apolline feel safe and peaceful. Whatever it meant, they were sure it was a message from The God – and so, when the winding trails let them down into a protected dip between two peaks and they caught sight of a white wolf up ahead, they felt their heart jump into their throat.

Without pause, the prophet hurried forwards, single eye narrowed against the whirling snow; This is it! Whoever this pale figure was, whatever it was, it was meant for Apolline.

Thoughts ”Speech”