Stone Circle And you can play this at my funeral

Life had become lonely in the heart of the man. It was a struggle, he sometimes pondered, though did not everybody face difficulties? There was always somebody out there who had it worse than himself, and he often reminded himself of this truth; it did not exactly please him, but it helped him to appreciate what still remained within his grasp. He'd scarely communicate with his packmates in-depth, sticking to short conversations and passsing greetings, for when he worried about things his first motive was to patrol more frequently and console himself in the peace of his lonesome. He loved Easthollow and those who resided there, but for now he would keep to himself until he was ready.

Despite this, he was almost glad when a call rose up for him near the borders - the voice, he recognised, and his pace picked up immediately in answer. What Valette required of him, he knew not, but the man appreciated having a reason to share words with her, rather than having to seek her out himself, for he had become somewhat of a procrastinator; in time, this trait would surely dissolve again.

Stepping out from the undergrowth he eyed the scene carefully - an unknown young man with a coat of slate stood near the alphess, and at first glance Mawk did not register the sight within his mind. He would not realise who this was, not until he spoke his name. "Valette." He greeted with a dip of his head, meeting her with a slight smile before gazing back toward the stranger in silent question.