Golden Glade Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?

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Silence.

Not a single sound could break through the barrier of his still sealed ears. There was nothing to be heard, nothing to be responded to. He stared off into the space where the fairy had disappeared, searching for a sign that might tell him of his friend’s return. Never had anything happened, though, as the boy was left behind by the wisps he so adored. Blurry had his vision once again become, for there were no bright entities there to gift him with the ability to see through the darkness more clearly. All that existed was the dull, colourless world of his mother, which was dissatisfying at best. Very few emotions could be felt by the child, and none could be understood or reacted towards properly. Yet, in spite of that, he’d found himself cast into a rare state of absolute upset. So strongly was it felt that he’d frowned, sighing deeply when it began to feel as if a heavy weight was pressing down on him. It was uncomfortable, perhaps even painful, and a sort of emotion that he’d desperately plea for a release from should anyone present themselves with the capability of providing him with relief. Somewhere within his head there thrived a part of his mind that knew said ability was not one that anyone on the physical plane was in possession of, but still had he wished.

Throughout his mind there echoed the voice that he would someday call his own, and then there was nothing. It was as if his wishes had been answered, and all by a flicker of light behind his eyes. Towards the corner of his one had it drifted, dragging along with it the child’s attention and making him turn his head. Immediately afterwards had the twinkle vanished, but no longer was he frustrated for across from where he stood was his mother. Bramble’s nose twitched once or twice as he tilted it up into the air, the scent of milk being all too familiar—there was no denying the fact that the large form was the one to have birthed him, just as he’d suspected. And whilst her words had not been heard, he acted almost as if they had been as he began crawling towards her. It was difficult work, he could not lie about that, but neither a break had been taken nor had his mission been abandoned. Onward had be moved, dragging his body across the surface of the earth until he’d eventually reached the woman raising him. She was not nearly as bright or warm as his otherworldly guides, but she was still a relatively important presence in his life. Thus it was against her muzzle that he’d butted his head, demanding nothing but her touch at this point.

The new wolves to have entered his home went unnoticed, their approach having not been heard. Of the two, the larger one’s being there had made the boy feel uneasy. His survival instincts kicked into gear, the feeling of eyes trained on his smaller form having made the fur along his back stand on end. A shiver crept down his spine, then, suggesting to any onlookers that he might be cold—which wasn’t the truth of the matter.

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