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waylay the din of the day
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cradle me in your crooked heart
Even the happier places the gray wolf had visited had been stepping stones, and not only to him, either. It was a popular trend, not only here, but everywhere, and those who stuck around too long seemed to go mad with the claustrophobia of it. His walking had probably saved his life and those few threads of sanity he had clung to upon his various departures. Tsunami would go mad again, being here. And then he would leave and find peace in clarity. The cycle would begin again.
The hybrid's story was a lot like his. Perhaps a little more detached -- or a lot, even. The lady didn't strike the gray wolf as the type to spill her thoughts and emotions onto the ground like blood from a deep wound. He took it at face value anyway. Digging was something he'd gladly do when his intuition told him that it needed to be done, but right then, with his meeting with Phasma lurking in his thoughts, along with the things she had told him, he just didn't have the energy. Moving forward, the one-eyed wolf sat on the edge of the fountain near Corona and leaned his elbows on his legs.
Tsunami had never crossed the ocean. All his life had been spent in North America, and he had seen quite a bit of it, but he had never crossed the ocean. He had heard tales of Europe and Asia from those he had come across in the past, though. For a time, Nora had almost had him convinced. Maybe one day he'd find her again. So I hear, was the wolf's reply. Is it good that we're becoming more like humans, though? The ghostwatcher had a great amount of respect for the Great Mother and the spirits and the ancestry he hailed from. The humans had destroyed themselves. Who was to say the canines were any better in chasing those dreams?
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