Bearclaw Valley One year later...

Though the ghost held no particular purpose in his mind when he wandered, there was a tiny part of him that enjoyed it. The tiredness that plagued his long limbs after several days of travel, the ache in his muscles, the beautiful scenery that he was only beginning to appreciate and enjoy, even if it was only a tiny bit. There was something thrilling in exploring places that he'd never seen before, or hidden things that no one came across before him, or so he liked to think. Nevertheless, Icarus still felt empty, and he wondered wearily if he would ever feel full again.

This time, his explorations took him to a secret valley. He'd found the entrance after some probing and examining. Gracefully, he went down the boulder path, unknowingly following the route of a pack wolf who'd been there before him moments ago. Her scent still lingered, but it was only after he stopped at the entrance and sniffed around did he notice. Icarus chastised himself for not noticing, resisting the urge to bite into his forearm, something his master forced him to do whenever he made a mistake, something that was almost second nature to him now even though his abuser was no longer here.

Icarus followed the scent trail then, not knowing why he was purposely trying to encounter a potentially aggressive wolf. But then again, the ghost didn't know half the things he was doing nowadays, having lost everything he knew, owned and had.

It was only a matter of time when the albino found the stranger, dark furred and female, staring into the river. Ica padded forward, his movements silent and sidled up to her, staring into the river at his own reflection before flinching. He'd never gotten used to seeing his own face, even when distorted by the water. Especially those blood red eyes.