Haunted Wood my lost fearless leader

The man knew nothing of Gods; instead a circle of sun and moon. The Sun, a beacon of heat, of anger, the ruler of prey that doth graze when its light spread across the horizon. The Moon, a force of predator, hunter; hunting those who spend their day growing fat and lazy, riddled with food that took time to digest.

Fallen Sun was the brilliance of dusk, a predator who oft hunted before the mist of twilight. His mother was shunned by the sun but not accepted by the moon, leaving his pack cursed to wander between no-man's-land and the borders of those who had been chosen by one or the other. 

Though he wasn't sure how he knew this, much less how to speak it. He wasn't even sure how someone would explain any of it if they couldn't use the Important Noises. He'd try, if he ever learned the secrets of articulation.

An ear flicked, and his head turned. Wind Flower?! his heart almost skipped a beat at the thought of her voice. Her scent. Their days in the meadow. Their adventures. How he missed her.

A stranger stood before him. But Fallen Sun was a boy in the body of a man, and had yet to meet an unkind face. Head tilting, he drew closer. Having passed his third winter, his feet had grown sure, steady - gracefully. Like he walked upon clouds instead of ground. He'd also gotten more interested in keeping himself free of dirt and debris, because he didn't want to find Wind Flower if he was unkept. 

Therefore, he was as bold as the setting sun he was named after. And he wuffed back a happy, breathy Hhi!