The Heartwood There is no end, only a new beginning.

Einn stumbles through the ghost of heartwood, wandering aimlessly. He'd been constantly travelling for days, living off of small game to keep himself somewhat full. But mice and rabbits could only take the vagabond so far.

The dark wolf collapsed on to the forest floor, the moss cushioning his otherwise harsh landing. He needed food, real food, but he was far too weak to fetch it himself, especially in this state. Einn was starting to miss the leeching days when he would snag his share of the pack's fresh kill and scurry off to his cave to continue his spiritual practices.

As he lays there, he stares off with a sense of longing. He wishes could've spent his time more wisely, perhaps he should've listened to his mother when she said he was a useless pig leech. Dying alone certainly didn't feel good, knowing that Einn never amounted to anything in his years of living. But he would have to reap what he sowed, no matter how bitter it was. It was the ironic beauty of life.