Ankyra Sound o green world, don't desert me now

Their first meeting had been a memory that he frequently filtered through in his own moments of peace. He could almost feel the crackling of the lightning still against the jagged rocks of the mountain spine. The memory of the falling rain would often lull him to sleep on nights when he did not know that he would ever sleep again. The wraith did not believe in things like fate; he was a man of harsh realities. Still, he wondered how different his life would have been if he had never happened upon her. He wondered how long ago he would have died.

Watching her, he could not help but to feel at ease. Though he was not pleased with the pack that they had made themselves a part of, and he did not feel as though a quiet life by the sea would bring him peace, Kierkegaard was content to have her there. Still, he wondered what more he could desire from such a full life. He had never truly wanted for anything, but there seemed to be something lacking from his existence. The ghostly figure did not understand how he could feel so hollow there and so complacent at the same time. Kierkegaard never imagined that he would desire more than what he had, and he knew that he was living on borrowed time. Were it not for the hooded woman next to him, he would have died several years before. Everything from that point on was icing on the cake.

“It's a fulfilled life.”

Her words rang through his ears and he peered at her with an inquisitive look. He had never heard the woman speak so low in all the time that he knew her. She was quick with her tongue and she did not ask for forgiveness for anything that she said, but these words had left her so strangely that he was certain there was something else that she had wished to say. Drawing his ears forward, the wraith smiled at her faintly and then drew his skull upward.

“But?”