Anatole did not catch the full display, but the Spirit did and made a note of it. She resolved herself to assist both the scared looking male and her stoic ward. With a great rush of air she lifted herself from his shoulders, flying off ahead of the pair. Once he was certain she was out of earshot, Anatole looked back to the taller wolf. “Everyone in our Tribe gains a Spirit Guide sometime in their life,” he explained. “She is mine.” This was where his explanation ended, unwilling to confide the reason or the story behind his own journey. It had not been made with a heart or eyes open, and this was a weakness within him that would not do well to surface.
They made their way to the central area, with Anatole circling wide around the flat rock area that served as Ceremonial Ground. Ahead the large fire burnt merrily, heating the area against the cold air. Several huts lined this area, and while Anatole himself did not live in this section of the territory, he knew it well.
“Why don’t you sit near the fire? I’ll go find some food.” Without waiting for a response, the dark wolf padded off towards one of the huts used for storage.
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