Zalen couldn’t help but to wag his tail frantically when Soran’s emerald eyes fell upon him and a smile came to her face. It was so good to see a friendly face, a care free face. So many of the younger wolves he had met recently had been so melancholy he found himself falling into the same funk as they. But here was a gentle elder, as wise as she was beautiful. Zalen felt he almost held an affection for her that he guessed he would have held to his mother, or grandmother had he known her. It was an affection that he felt slightly even to the spirit who followed him now.
Zalen returned her embrace, but felt pained when he saw the way her ebon form moved with a stiffness that could only be attributed to age. He wondered why she had been sharpening that knife just now, it did not become her nature. I am well. It has been too long between our meetings Soran, how has this last month fared for you? He now took this moment too look at her more carefully.
The sable female seemed slightly worn, like a rock smoothed over by the constant grind of a stream. Her eyes looked weary; he could see it behind their sparkle. This was different from when he had seen her last, when she was fresh on the scene and searching for her family. He hoped she had found them, but if she had why did she look the way she did, harrowed slightly and on edge? She hid it well, but he could see through the disguise. His tail slowed as he pondered this, and then she asked of his reading, You will be proud, I’ve nearly memorized the books you have given me, plus I found this in Halfiax. he produced the small, green book that had been hidden in his massive paws; the front in faded gold leaf was the word Poetry, simple as it was beautiful.
Zalen sat on the low tree branch and looked up at Soran, his head slightly cocked to the side causing the feathers in his hair to stand perfectly upright, Soran, what is troubling you? I can sense something is wrong.
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