Wapun Meadow want to fly to a place where it's just you and me - nobody else so we can be free

He was supposed to be dead. It was supposed to be over.

He could not get his teeth into the collar. He could not shake free of it. It was far unholier than the ropes he was familiar with, and while it had been fastened to his thick neck with due care and had been properly adjusted to him, the white wolf felt he was being choked. Wheezing for breath and still afflicted by the strange malaise that had taken over him, Skwol stood swaying and hung his head in utter despondency. There was a soulless look to his eyes as they fixed into snow ahead of his paws.

He was unable to summon the will to turn toward Indra when she called his name, and regarded her only briefly in his periphery. His reply was empty, and scarcely above a whisper.

"Leave."