Wapun Meadow set yourself on fire

AW. Will archive if left lonely or unanswered after a week.

It was his kind of place. The flowers, the open space to roam--and empty. Gloriously empty. There were packs, nearby (he could smell them when the wind turned) but this place was unclaimed. Zamael stood alone in the middle of the meadow, fiery eyes shut, breathing in the aroma of freedom.

He had mixed feelings about leaving the golden boy behind. He was saddened, sure, for as little time as they had spent together, he had warmed up to the speechless wolf. Perhaps their paths would cross again. But young and damaged as he was, he reminded Zamael much of Alarian. The pain of separation was still too fresh; there was a certain amount of relief in walking away, too.

Now he wandered alone once more, paws skimming idly over the floral-carpeted ground. After a rainy day, the sun was out, and the air was crisp and cool. The leaves on the trees surrounding the clearing were starting to turn from verdant green to that red-gold medley that hearkened autumn.

It was peaceful, here.

So why did he still feel so unsettled?