It was a robin, its dark feathered back shown against the pale background of winter’s landscape. Its bright orangey-fire breast gutted out, the chirping song brought forth from its round fat stomach. It was commonplace, one of thousands that were on every tree in ever forest. Still its song held her still for a moment, purple eyes looking up at the bird and its ordinary earthen tones mixed with the almost unnaturally brilliant color. A simple color, accented by the most complex of tones. It reminded her of someone, another that was far from simple and everything that complex could entail. A voice spoke, small in every way and it brought her mind right to the present.
She turned, bags still attached to her hands and looked down at the youth that had called to her. It took a moment for the Church woman to take in the question and find the answer to it. “Oh...” Mati exclaimed, “Art supplies, frames.” She explained still recovering from the slight surprise. How had she allowed such an inexperienced wolf to simply walk right behind her without even noticing? Her mind was so blanketed by certain experiences that she would have let any beast stalk her. “But,” Mati spoke, her face looking slightly worried, “I’m not Signora.” She did not know who it was that the pup was searching for, but she knew that she was not it.
“My name is Mati Church.” She spoke, her eyes watching the unknown wolf-pup. She smelled of Phoenix Valley, though her memory of the fragrance was faded. She was not one to venture that far East, but her art tutor Honore was of that pack and Mati found it hard to forget anything about him.