[/html]private for Poe; set in Halifax.
The fire had changed the wolves of Bleeding Souls. Choking smoke, sooty ash and raging flames tend to change the way you look at things. Sedition didn't know how many survived but by listening to howls for each other, he guessed more than he originally thought. Those that survived were stronger for it, and Sedition couldn't help but feel that there should have been others that could have survived in his place. He was getting old and feeble - the sickness had proven that; but he didn't let such feelings cloud his judgment. He was a Wick and regardless of the reputation Salvaged might have given that surname, he felt proud to be one. It was moments like this when he was alone that he pictured himself back in Berowick alongside his sister and family. He had chosen a wanderer's life but it didn't ease the homesickness that sometimes crept into his thoughts.
His strength was slowly returning thanks to the herbs he had salvaged from a pharmacy in the huge city. The nausea had passed but he knew it would take time for his body to finish healing. Time he knew, he had plenty of. Settling down in his fully-shifted form near the huge "university" he took out the same journal he had scavenged. Daniel had flew by to double-check on him (thanks to Vorraussetzung's ability to worry) and had given him a message to return. He had declined and instead told his sister about his plan to gather information on the offspring of Teri, perhaps build a biography and tell the residents of 'Souls of Berowick. They were even closer now in these new lands and he felt those children, relatives and friends deserved to know of them. Opening the book he pulled out an old pen and slowly, steadily began to write. Even a murderer needs to tell his story.
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