In her young life, Amelie had learned one thing for certain. Life was volatile and vulnerable. She had learned the crude reality of this when the pack had been struck with the tragedy of Osprey Junior's presumed death. During her erratic existence outside the pack she had never expirienced the death of a close relative. She had been born without a father, and her mother had left her but not died-- even if her brother's had met that unlucky fate after their split she didn't have a way of knowing.
It wasn't until she joined the Plateu and took the job of pupsitter that she realize the reality of the cycle of life. What she had thought to be a distant fable that only applied to aged wolves stuck her right in the face when one of the sweet pups she took care of took a step onto the afterlife. It was then that the truth fell on her like a bucket of ice water. No one was saved. Not even the pups who had just begun to breathe.
But even if that event had changed her way of thinking, in the end it turned out to be a lie; as the pup returned unharmed she forgot the cruelty of life and death for a second.
The borders had become nothing but a point of reference of where home was to the young girl. She often crossed the invisible line that outlined the Plateu to explore a bit of the outside world. Today was no different, as she jogged to the lands that laid beyond the security of the Plateu a black silhouette lined with silver hairs caught her eye. She wagged her tail joyfully as she approached her grandfather, she had not really had a lenghty conversation with him since he joined so she figured spending the afternoon with him would make up for her lack of attention over the past few days.
"Granpa!", she called to him as she reached him, burying her nose onto his shoulder inmediately after greeting him.
