Ergh. The colours were too bright. What the heck were they still doing out anyway? Didn't they realise they were in the clutches of winter? For some reason, he thought he knew of someone that could tell him why the plants were so bright, why the yellow in the flowers beneath his paws still shone brightly towards the morning sun. He was sure they should have died long ago but there was a wolf who could tell him why they were still here. He didn't know the name though and he couldn't see a face when he thought of who it was he knew. Maybe he had just made their acquaintance once and for but a moment... who knows. Annoyed at the gap in his memory, he wrinkled his nose and snatched one of the delicate flowers from the ground, tearing the roots from the earth. He crushed the honey hued petals within his jaws and then spat the offending plant out to the floor.

Stupid flowers.

He planted his rear to the floor, easing himself more than he would normally, the stinging in his shoulder still evident.

Stupid Marsh.

He glanced to the sky. The azure about him was beautiful. The sky was clear. No clouds. A fresh breeze. The morning sun was climbing higher and higher, it would be noon soon. The days were shorter now, the temperature was icy. He was thankful for his winter coat, which not only kept him warm, but made him look like he had a little more meat on his bones then he actually had. Speaking of meat- there was his stomach rumbling.
Ever since the ghost of his father had abandoned him after the fight, and with a nice hole torn into his flesh, he hadn't been able to hunt. Nothing fresh. Scraps here and there, a fish from the stream which was already dead and half eaten from a bear... nothing substantial and he was starting to feel the pain from it. He needed to eat and soon. He wondered for a moment where Ecco had gone- she would have been useful. He should of used her to hunt when he had the chance and not fussed with his wound. He just wasn't able to think straight right now. Everything shot of on a tangent. Memories were out of place and made little sense. Shooting pains in his head, that felt like someone had hammered a nail into his temper, reminded him that parts of his life were missing but he was unable to access them.

Stupid Brain.

With an inward sigh, causing a mist of breath from his nose, he glance from side to side. He had never been here before, but he hadn't much to say on the place, other than it was super quiet. Too quiet. There was no food to be found here. It didn't help that it was winter. That most of the smaller animals were hibernating somewhere safely. He could spend his time trying to find locations of sleeping pray, but that would use too much energy. Energy he didn't have to spare.
He had no purpose right now. Other than tearing Marsh limb from limb, but he wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to take on a pack wolf unless he bumped into him alone. He wouldn't be proud and march up to the River front door, knock loudly and call him out. No, he wouldn't come alone. He would bring the others with him, maybe not by his choice, but pack wolves didn't work on honor; they survived the best they could. Same as him. No, the downfall of the River wolves would have to wait until he was himself, his head stopped hurting, his stomach stopped rumbling and he had pack support.

There goes another shooting pain.

He whinced, they were getting stronger. Certain trails of thought caused a stronger pain than others- especially thoughts of packs, females and even pups. He didn't even recall the run in he had with his son and mate before his memory had returned - it appeared his mind had chosen to block out that as well, alongside the death of his white daughter.

Like a fool. He continued to sit within the glade of flowers, his rear to the floor, his mind trying to focus, his stomach growling and his purpose lost.

Stupid life.

Someone was coming for they made no effort in hiding their paw steps against the cold ground. A shuffle of grass, leaves, twigs, who knew, but they were coming towards him. At first, he thought it was Marsh. He wouldn't put it past the golden wolf to track him down just to finish what they had started. Rhysis would had took that fight to the death, but it was all over when his head hit the ground and the world begun to spin. Yeah, sure, whatever. It was his fault for, his slip up, his loss of the right, but he wouldn't admit that to himself or anyone; he saw it as just one of those things and would never speak of it again.
This creeping wolf wasn't Marsh though. Nor was he part of any River pack. He had a familiar scent, but it was buried within a strong forest aroma. A pack wolf to be sure, but one that his body told him not to fear. How curious.

He glanced over his shoulder and met the figure of the very fluffy silver wolf. He walked confidently yet timid at the same time it seemed, but his face held a sly smile that creeped Rhysis out a little. Who walked up to a stranger smiling? It wasn't an evil smile, if anything he seemed to want to be friends. Like a lost puppy or something. Geez, someone needed to give the guy a smack. Tell him not to walk up to strangers with a big grin on his face, with not a care in the world. Rhysis might have considered being the one to give him a whack on the head and tell him to stop being retarded, but his shoulder still stung a little and he didn't fancy his chances whilst wounded with a male that large.

It turned out he didn't need to smack sense into the wolf, he had obviously lost his marbles. It became apparently when he spoke, just like he knew Rhysis. Well, Rhysis certainly didn't know who this guy was... or did he? A nagging in his mind told him to cut it out, perhaps a whisper or a name echoed in his ears but he didn't heed to any of it. Instead, he waited a moment before he replied "Dafuck?" in his cool, distant drawl. Perhaps it was somewhat uncharacteristic of him. In the past he would have played nice, used the wolf for some sort of advantage but it appeared lately his entire personality had shifted. He simply couldn't be arsed to be nice. A new leaf in his book perhaps, but he was through with playing stupid games. It was time to be himself.

He persisted, but he seemed to have wiped the smirk from his face at least and that was a little satisfying. It still hadn't been enough to get him to butt out though, so that was a little irritating. Still, he had to give the guy credit, he wasn't going to take the easy way out and continued to press his luck. Rhysis supposed he could amuse the guy until he got close enough to give a good bashing over the head. It would be for his own good of course, the guy could clearly do with some sense being knocked into him.


“Valiant. Don’t you remember?” he said, his words very sure of what he was seeing. The sudden look of determination gave Rhysis a moment of doubt. Perhaps he had lost his mind. Did he remember this guy?


A surge of pain spiked his head, right where his skull had collided with a nice slab of something at the bottom of a ditch. Ergh, that was going to give him aggro for days no doubt. Still, there was something about him now he stood closer that seemed familiar. His scent was strange, he didn't recognize the wooden scent much, but his own scent did have a sense of familiarity about it.


"Look mate. I really can't be arsed with your crap. Why don't you take it to someone who gives a shit and piss off." he said, a look to the other with a tone of 'no more non-sense'. It seemed that words just weren't going to break down the barrier between his lives. Not just yet any way.