Things were finally looking up for Shawchert. He was even playing his flute today. It was a good feeling. Much better than the last time he’d tried, he was far too depressed. Now. It was better, he had more inspiration, and his son was listening to boot. He played a quiet tune. He had found himself a comfortable spot just outside his territory, actually between his and Dalia’s territory. His nose scented another wolf closing in nearby but he was far too busy with his flute, making the tune just right. This was his element, he belonged here, creating music, like he had said he always would. Now he wouldn’t put it down, at least, he would play every single day, just to hear that beautiful sound of air rushing through the wood, and whistling through the holes to make a melody.

He was in his element now, something he rarely saw himself in these days, it was amazing. Though he’d lost his son, the boy was sitting next to Shawchert swaying to the music. He would eventually be reunited with his mate, he would wait another week or so and go after her, in hopes of finding her and possibly his daughters and Orin. Things would get better, he’d find a way. It always got better. He told himself as he continued to play his tune, though it was lively, it was in no way the cheery type of music he normally played.