Phoenix Maplewood the healing of nations

She sought life. Reek sought the same, yet his search was also peppered with the strong desire to find emotional peace in the hopes that it would bring some fleeting sense of closure. They were one in the same in their goals, Reek felt, in that neither of them would find what they were looking for within the specter of the maplewood. There was nothing but a barren wood. A shadow of its former self.

The stranger stepped forward, slow in her approach. Reek's eyes remained closely trained on her form as she inched closer -- tantalizing as she may appear, Reek was wary. Once more, she levied a question. There was once a time when Reek was careful when divulging information about his own pack, but the longer he led, the more he realized it was uniportant to keep secrets under lock and key.

"I lead a pack that calls the Grotto to the northwest home," he answered. "We get by thanks to the lake." In fact, as far as famines went, the wolves of the grotto had done quite well. If it weren't from the fish that were readily available (and the lingering birds who preyed on said fish), Reek and Co. would have starved long ago. However, "—The famine," he continued, "it's made things difficult for us." 

He paused and his gaze trailed downward. "I'm being punished," spoke Reek, voice riddled with guilt. The timing -- it was just too well placed. He had pissed off whatever higher power there was. This plague was an angry response. As a result, Reek, who had been an adamant non-believer for most of his life, had begun to question himself.