The Heartwood Why does thou sit upon my grave

Pacing commended for many moments, seconds, minutes, until soon the time seemed to drag into hours. She was patient, but could only be for so long until it was worn thin and exhausted. The dark hound was cutting his bounds close.

Little known by most, the keenest of patience comes with great reward and satisfaction. All the while, the lithe, creeping creature had kept her ears riveted. In doing so, soon she was able to make out a light scuffle, then a heavy thump...

Something approached.

Lapis darting upward, aiming for the direction in which the sounds came. Slowly, deviously, a wry smile curved along a thin lip. Someone was here, and she knew just who.

Slinking her way forward, the creature lifted her head high, cyan blue gaze beaming towards the nearing figure. 

Welcome home. She rasped, loud enough for him to hear, but quiet as though she were whispering. A new voice, but familiar. He had known her once, but even now, it would surely be estranged to his memory. 

Behind the fray of chocolate fur, the heartwood began to chime in, elder trunks bellowing and the leaves upon them rustling to a neat rhythm. They sang the song that had once been foretold. It was fate that called him here, and so fate he would continue to follow. Now the woman waited to see how he would accept the words given to him, or if more would be necessary to come.