What a small, small world.
#8
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Word Count :: 000

Mean, dangerous even, and smelling a bit marshy - it seemed like the Salsola pack, although Skye would not say that she knew for certain. Adrian seemed a bit shocked that he was in possession of Shawchert's very flute, and Skye supposed she was as well, at least a little; the chances of her seeing that flute again were very slim, she had thought, but now it was before her eyes. The man holding it, however, was not the wolf she might have thought would be holding it.

"It seems so," she said quietly in response to the man's shocked words. She did not blame him for being shocked - she herself was a bit confused. But then, she supposed that life worked in rather mysterious ways, and that this small coincidence was simply another event in the grand scheme of the universe, and how it worked. Did she believe it was fate? No. But she did think that it was one grand happenstance, one that made her think, and wonder..

"I wonder where he is now," she mused, looking towards the sky. Shawchert had loved that flute, she knew it. The man she met would not have simply tossed it aside.. but then again, the man she had met would not have tossed aside the pack he had helped create. Shawchert had changed since she knew him; where he once would never have just walked away from Cercatori d'Arte, he did so with ease the last time she had seen him.

She would not search for him, not now, she knew - he had left the pack for a reason. Perhaps he wanted to move on with his life, to search new things beyond the family that had left him broken inside. Perhaps he sought his family elsewhere, with Titania and his mother. Perhaps he simply wanted to forget. And it was that reason, that reason alone, that Skye would respect her former leader's last wish.. and not bring back the memories he wished to bury.

You're the only one who saves me from myself, I abandoned this love and laid it to rest, And now I'm one of the forgotten

Image courtesy of auensen

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