Hushed Willows Show yourself, I'm dying to meet you.

✹☾❂

 

Eleuthera, too, was seeking out her brother. There was little more that occupied her mind, lately. Once, the willows were only hallowed ground — a place of ghosts and untold stories, of memories and a special, soulful type of pain — was now becoming a place of hope. There were times she might even die for these willows, without having a reason why that was more than a life-pledge she uttered to the winds during one of her particularly low moments. But now this placed was filled once again with family; those bound to her by blood, by familial bond, by the title of Faerie, and by soul recognition.

Suddenly, there was so much to be fighting for… and amazingly, somehow, all her strife seemed to fall away.

The willows were not a huge territory. As such, she managed to track her brother down relatively easily — made easier, perhaps, by the fact that he was hunting for her as well. When she glimpsed him meandering amongst the willow branches, looking ethereal and druid-like as he did so, she could not help but notice how he comfortable he appeared here. As if he knew, deep into his soul, that if there was any place in the world he could rest his weary soul, it was here. Eleuthera saw it in Sundance, because she felt the same pulse in her own veins.

Striding forward, she wagged her tail and offered him a greeting. “You know, you look like them." His fur and stature, yes, but there was something beyond all that which she was able to recognize as remnants of the wolves who bore them.