Shadowwyn Moor addir melek

Despite the deadpan of her tone, it was clear to the winterwolf that there was true depth behind those fathomless bronze eyes, that she was not as shallow-minded as he may have thought. He welcomed her surgical probing; luckily for them both, his inherent sedation made it easier to endure the cuts of her investigatory scalpel.

You would prefer the things that come naturally to us go unacknowledged? Wake countered good-humoredly.

Whether he was being philosophical or facetious, he stopped waxing poetic to speak plainly to the caribou-chaser. We speak these things to show appreciation for what something is, instinct or other. Sure it is natural to do the things we must to survive, but not all have the ability to do so. Not every wolf survives what you have, nor does every soul carry your strength of mind and body. He searched her face for understanding.

It is imperative in my culture to show appreciation for these things. One should show pride in continuing their existence… so we give title to it. We acknowledge it. We speak gratitudes for the ability to do what comes natural to us. And we make sure to never become apathetic to it.

To him, it boiled down to a lack of faith and imagination on the nameless shadow’s part. Yet, he could also understand why she and others might find no utility in the way he saw things. He’d learned that those who’d lived lives of intense scarcity or abuse often had little time to think about anything other than what they needed. He wondered which category she fell under, if either.

She asked him something profound then, and after a beat of genuine surprise, Wake’s expression morphed into a coy smile, entirely reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary.

You have seen me, he praised, amused. Lowering his voice, he told her: I believe my true fate is here. I hear its call getting louder all the time.