Whitefish River born just to meet you

When he was done running, Kaworu was alone. This was a new kind of loneliness, it was unbound with no walls to accompany him. The world expanded far beyond his what his eyes could see. Perhaps now he would find a way to touch the sky since he was no longer tethered to the ground by the rope of his god. The collar still placed around his neck still served as a reminder, he was an outsider to this new world.

The ghost had turned to the night and become nocturnal. The sun was much too harsh and Kaworu only braved the daylight hours when the sky was overcast with storm. He no longer watched the rain through a panel of glass, often caught in downpours that drench and weighed on the long strains of his pelt. Unlike his feral cousin he did not repel water from his coat efficiently, it chilled him to the bone and he invited the cold in.

Today the weather was fair, so the Borzoi had to seek out his water. His feet were light, long legs gliding with ease over the terrain of the Wilds. Kaworu did not wish to disturb the nature around him, barely upturning a leaf as he overstepped the underbrush and slithered into another shadow. Though he preferred the night, he had gone without sleep for two days now.

The world had a song, but this land rung with voices that haunted him in the twilight hours. He had grown to know the feral breed as vocal, their howls would not let him deny their heavy presence in the land. He was curious to know them and learn this song that seemed oddly familiar and yet so foreign, pieced by a language he swore he spoke but couldn't place on his tongue.

For now there was only the quiet of birdsong twittering in his ears as he bent his head to drink.