Wapun Meadow morningsong

They do indeed, Wake rejoined with a hushed laugh, still mindful of the herd. He wouldn’t want his voice to carry beyond the bubble of this conversation. All the while, he felt warm under her openly studious gaze, an inquisitive light to the honeygold of her eyes. The winterwolf privately basked in her attention.

Upon hearing her request, his eyes turned skyward, thoughtful. There is much to the Rhythm. No two wolves seem to follow it in exactly the same way. His smile was wistful as he looked at her again. But all of our people believe in destiny. Fate.

He thought back to what he’d been taught as a child. How he might explain it to her, an adult not raised in their line of worship. As children we are raised to know the cycle of things. The turning of the seasons and what they mean. We sing hymns to welcome them and enjoy feasts to bid them farewell. His recollection of these things were pleasant.

We also learn that each of us have a purpose to fulfill in our lives, a True Fate to seek out. Some grow towards light in that belief, some towards darkness.

He wondered what she thought of that. Did it seem silly to her?