The two had met at an appropriate hour and set out early, traveling in such a way and direction that Nayru insisted they take to avoid Inferni and Anathema irritation. Razekiel clearly lacked the trepidation of such places she possessed, but that was only natural: The coyote was a man of peace, and thus he believed that all others around him shared in the same. If they did not provoke such packs, they would not be provoked; besides, most of Inferni was family to him, different as they might be, and he had utmost confidence they would not bring harm to one of the matriarch's eldest sons, especially one as non-threatening as he.

Every so often on their trek he would enlighten her with the countless stories he had collected in his time in Juniper; the times he'd loved Ocean Flower till the early dawn, the birth of his children, the places they'd seen, Sage's first words, China's love for the shape of poison ivy leaves, the time the infant Micah had sat on a bee and consequently stung in the ass by it. He spoke of nights beneath the stars and days beneath the great sunny sky. He spoke of the French pack, Aube de Musique, with whom he had spent so much recent time. He spoke of the mountains and valleys he was leading her to, the Buddhist temple hidden away in Halcyon, the great wonders of the long-lost New Glasgow. With fantastically enthusiastic arm-waving and a smoking joint in his teeth, he spoke with great excitement, as if he'd lived a full life already and yet had barely gotten started at it.

He recognized the mountain's peak as they neared it, and with one deep breath of that fresh mountain air, the coyote turned a hazy grin to the two-toned alpha. "All right, Miss Liberty, take a deep breath and c'mon," Razekiel chuckled, then rushed ahead of her, racing the short distance to the mountain's climax ahead of her. The wind picking up his fur ever so gently at its height, the coyote gazed lovingly into the view a moment before turning and smiling as she joined him.

"Here," Razekiel said, turning straw-hued eyes to the wind once more, "here is where I'll build... Where we'll build, if you join me, little Freedom."

The view was fantastic: The mountain was not the tallest, nor were they at its highest point, but the scope of the territory below was nonetheless broad and unhindered. Blanketed in a thin layer of sunlight, before them laid great rolling green lands and plateaus and a sparkling ocean in the far distance; the great New Glasgow lay to their far east, still frozen in time as it had been so many years. Rivers and streams weaved through green pastures and clouds rolled overhead. Not even the trip down the other side of the mountain seemed a trial: No, nothing about such a place seemed frivolous. It was a picture of peace, of harmony — or perhaps the closest one could find in such a day and age.

Pride swelled his chest at her excitement; even without the persuasion of drugs, Nayru saw the mountain and coastland for all its beauty. Perhaps his heart even fluttered a little at her small exclamation. Nevertheless, Razekiel smiled at her a moment, studying her reaction a long while, before turning his gaze out to Mother Nature's glory once more. He breathed in the mixture of fresh air and smoke, closing his eyes a moment as the Mother brushed through and embraced his being with the summer wind.

"I would love to join you here," she began, and at that he swelled with eagerness and excitement, straw eyes widening in sheer anticipation — but still she cut him at the knees, almost retracting the statement. Dahlia de Mai was simply too important to leave behind. An understandable concept, for sure, but still the coyote's great grin sank to a disappointed, small and forced smile. His shoulders sank and he shrugged; perhaps he was a fool to believe she would do any different.

Nayru requested to see the Abbey he'd spoken of with a newborn excitement, with a tone Razekiel could only find hopeful and recognizing. He nodded powerfully, smile reviving. "Of course, my fox, of course! This way, if you will!" He turned on his heel, stumbling (and giggling) a moment as his excitement forced him to move too fast for his marijuana-induced brain to keep up with. Fortunately, he had become familiar with the scenery and land, and not even drugs could keep him from knowing where to go.

The trip was short, and on it he spoke more of the Abbey and of the other places she could see, she could grow to love — even if it was a failing argument. Their mountain path switched subtly to a lane lined with stone beneath their feet, the underbrush somewhat wild and creeping between the cracks. "It will need some trimming, perhaps, if my Mother allows it," he gurgled as the Buddhist temples erupted into their view — still in pristine condition, as if Mother Nature herself had preserved it from deathly weather. Once again Razekiel breathed the air contentedly, finding great peace in a place so surrounded by lush nature, and the babbling brook that ran the abbey's backside.

"Gampo Abbey," he said, pointing gingerly to the old, age-worn sign that stood nearby. How it was still legible, he did not know. "The old Buddhist temple, man. Real fab, real peaceful. The Great Mother loves it, man. Have a look, yeah?" With a patient wave, he directed her within, to learn the beautiful secrets he had spoken of in the place he wished to build upon.

As before, Razekiel found himself greatly pleased by her sense of impression, partly because he wished to make her smile as he did when she was a child, and partly because the Abbey, like so many other places in the mountainous, coastal lands, deserved of such humbling and awe. As he stood in the doorway behind her, watching her every move while still breathing in the freshness of the peaceful place, Mother brushed a warm wind past, a subtle thank-you for bringing the princess here to see the Mother's hard work.

The way Nayru froze after stepping inside, the coyote's ears perked with mild interest. She'd seen something, he knew she had — perhaps the Great Mother had made an appearance to her, just as she had he! Pride and excitement blossomed in his chest at the mere notion, the male brightening, even as her words rang a slight emptiness at what she'd seen.

"You saw something, yeah?" Razekiel grinned, failing to respond to her actual comments. "Did you see her? The Great Mother?"

And just like that, her mind was changed. Had she seen the Mother, as he had so many times before? Had the Mother decided a relationship with the two-tone alphaess to be resourceful as well? Razekiel certainly hoped so, and in his heart he prayed for the best. That was, of course, under the great swelling of happiness at her words, and the pride he felt that she had made such a decision. He had not been the one to sway her, even — no, it had been the Mother herself. Truly she led him in her path, in the ways she wished, and he had succeeded. He need not a reward, just the happiness of seeing her glory blossom, and seeing Nayru at peace with him in such a place.

For a long moment he calmly smiled at her, soaking in her pleasure, giving her time to take back her words if she wished, to regret them or doubt them. She did not; no, her cherry-red eyes were vivid with honesty and decision, and at that the scarlet-masked prince stepped forward and gathered her in his arms once more, hugging her tightly as he would one of his own, as if he himself was the Mother embracing her in thanks for her decision.

Holding her close, the coyote smiled to himself hazily, breathing in her scent as it mingled with that of marijuana, it having soaked into her hair and fur during her time with him. "Oh, my little Freedom, you make my heart burst," he grinned, suddenly tightening his hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning around with her. "If you mean it, if you're real sure, man, we will build her. Gampo Abbey will be ours! These mountains and hills and rivers, loaned from the Great Mother herself! You and I, little Liberty, Phoenix Valley and Dahlia de Mai! What do you say?"

She agreed once more, and with that Razekiel only grinned further, spun her once more, and gathered her in his arms once more for a tight and thankful embrace, then released her.

"Yeah, man," he smiled, straightening the rose lenses perched on his nose. It had not taken much convincing for Jefferson to agree to "step down" of sorts; the old scarred man knew his time was up as far as leading went, but he only needed the freedom and acknowledgment presented to him before he could agree to it. When Razekiel had mentioned to him that he wished to bring Nayru and Dahlia de Mai into the mix, the cyclops had been much quicker to give the coyote the okay, and thus much of Razekiel's plans had depended almost entirely on if the two-toned alphaess agreed. In the end she had, and Mother Earth be praised, everything was working out so perfectly. He could hardly believe it, at times wondering if his marijuana tendency was warping his mind into illusions that were simply too good to be true.

Clasping her hands in his, the man looked earnestly into her eyes. "I will be bringing them," he said quietly. "The old man's had enough, you know? Been 'the man' for a couple years too long, yeah. He's got other things to cruise, man, got other paths to walk and other cribs to chill. He deserves it, man, so he won't be a regular in our groovy pad."

His tone may have leaked compassion for the old Patriarch, but Razekiel would not argue for Jefferson to stay with them. It was for the better — the cyclops did have other paths to walk, but the coyote believed the man was perhaps not... the right type for the Great Mother's plans, either, nor the pack they wished to form...

"Ichikans," he said next, a twinkle behind the rose lenses. "We can be called Ichikans, my little Liberty! Ichika no Ho-en, that is the name I have considered, man: the flower of the great phoenix fire, man! We are two peoples in one, you dig?"

For her to reply in his lingo, the coyote grinned ear to ear. Surely they would be fantastic together, reunited for good. He knew no other joy; for his girls to join him in their united pack, all three girls, Razekiel knew he could not die a happier man. As for Micah, Razekiel did not know — he could only assume his youngest child was still with Ocean Flower back in Juniper Peace despite his three sisters settling in Inferni. Should all four of them join he and Nayru in what would become Ichika no Ho-en, Razekiel could not dream of a better day, a better life.

For a long moment he gazed at her, then in one motion threw his arm around her shoulders and led her back outside, other hand pulling the joint back and forth from his lips, puffing at the marijuana with great enthusiasm. Razekiel closed the Abbey door gently behind them, breathed in the sweet Mother's breath, and smiled up into the sunlight. Her warmth was particularly encompassing, embracing that day, and with that confirmation he knew he had done well.

"How will you tell them?" he said after a moment, straw eyes returning to her seconds later. "What if they refuse, man? I wanna be there, little girl, you know, help you out. I'll cool 'em all down, tell 'em what we're gonna be about, man. They won't be able to resist, I know it, but we gotta be prepared, yeah?"

Another puff from the joint. "I will be with Jefferson when he lays down the big news. I should be with you too, yeah?"

Already she was agreeing with him and they were seeing eye-to-eye; yes, they would make fantastic partners in leading the pack. He smiled at her and nodded, though puzzled how she would manage to persuade her, but he knew nothing of the Dahlians. Perhaps they were so dedicated to the girl already that they would follow her anywhere — Razekiel personally believed they should be, anyway. He saw no faults in the two-toned girl, though he hated to see faults in anyone. Regardless, together they would lead, and they would surely be successful in their efforts beneath the guidance of the Great Mother.

"All right, my Liberty," he said, offering her the joint, and perhaps in celebration she took it and sucked in a few hazy, smiling puffs. When returned, Razekiel did the same, and together they moved back to the mountain top, chatting between themselves, and halting only as the bare sun hit their faces as they overlooked what would become Ichika no Ho-en.

"Groovy," he said simply to himself. To him, that seemed the celebrate the moment more than any other word he could possibly find. Groovy, yes. Perfect.