Barrow Fields what once was mine

The sea beckoned him again. This journey was his response.

He ambled through tall grasses. He'd missed this air, which only grew saltier as he went forth—

it was then that he sensed he was not alone in this field.

However, the scent of the other was not unknown to him. A part of his brain had been accustomed to it, the familiarity hit him hard. It stopped him in his tracks. How long had it been?

He knew this woman. She was from the fledgling group by the sea. After they had all disbanded, he'd never known what had happened to the rest of them. The memories were fuzzy. All he knew was that he should find her.

Fueled by an unusual determination, he scoured the fields for a sight of her. It took a fair bit of effort, but it didn't take long for him to spy the movement of a wolf in the distance. He quickened his pace and followed her.

Once a few yards away, he stopped, wishing her name would stop eluding him. Instead, he settled for a harsh bark in the hopes she'd turn around.