Word Count: 358. I’m eventually going to run out of (not so) subtle references for this character’s posts. 
Even after her conversation with Fia yesterday, Pixie could still feel the sadness in and around her. Denali’s death had left a scar on the pack, and who knew when they would all be healed. In the meantime, the young wolfess tried to keep herself away from the other Crimson Dreamers for the majority of the time, but she knew she couldn’t visit Cercatori D’Arte or any of the surrounding lands all the time. Today she settled for sitting on a tree stump not far from the fence that surrounded Haven Manor. Probably not the best place to go, seeing as it did bring back memories of teaching Denali how to ride horseback, but it was a good place to relax and play her guitar in the sun. She could now read the lyrics to some of the songs in her book, so now she could sing along with them without having to make up lyrics.
“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train
And I's feeling nearly as faded as my jeans.
Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained,
It rode us all the way to New Orleans.”
Of course, just because she could read the lyrics didn’t mean she understood them anymore than when she couldn’t. She didn’t know what they meant by a ‘busted flat,’ and she had no idea where Baton Rouge or New Orleans were, though she had heard of a place called Loo Easy Anna. She did, however, know what jeans were, as she had seen other Luperci wear them, and when traveling she had come across trains, including those that were referred to as ‘diesels,’ that had long since run off the tracks and were now rusted ruins filled with scrap metal. According to those that lived near the train wrecks, they used to travel on the tracks and carry humans and supplies to different cities far away and even all the way to the great ocean in the west. The Pacific, they called it. Pixie wondered if she would ever get around to seeing it, ever get around to traveling to that far off place called California.
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