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Senka trotted through the forest, thinking of home. It wasn't that she was ready to go back yet, but there was something to be said for the comfort of a daily routine, the knowledge that the pack was there. Of course, the pack was one member smaller, now. Bryanni. Surly, old Bryanni had been consigned to ashes. Senka's mentor was no more.

The she-wolf heaved a sigh. It wasn't like the old storyteller had ever been particularly kind to her, but she still missed the old wolf. She had learned so much from her and she suspected that Bryanni had acquired a certain affection for Senka before the end, as well.

The scent of water reached her nose, interrupting her thoughts and reminding her that she was rather thirsty. A moment later, she caught the scent of another wolf. Her ears perked up. Just what she had been looking for. Hopefully, this wolf would provide a bit of a distraction from her maudlin thoughts. With that, she picked up her pace and headed toward water and wolf.

Senka found the little stream first and paused to take a drink. It was cool and delicious, perfect on this hot, summer day. When she had her fill, she looked for a sign of the wolf she had scented. He did not appear to be in her immediate vicinity, so she followed the little creek farther downstream.

It wasn’t long before she caught sight of the wolf just on the other side of the water. His white and purple fur stood out quite starkly against the verdant greens and browns of the forest. There was something in his gait that spoke of sadness, something in his drooping head that said defeat. That much was immediately clear. This was a wolf who knew of suffering.

So much for getting away from the maudlin, she thought wryly.

Suddenly, the other wolf jumped and looked straight at her, their startled eyes meeting over the stream. Senka did not dare to so much as blink, for fear he might bolt. Though perhaps she was being unfair.

“Hello,” she said softly, soothingly. “I am Senka. Who are you?”

Assured that he wasn’t going to run off right away, Senka relaxed slightly. He was a handsome wolf, she noted objectively, with his pale green eyes and exotic coloring, but he seemed to be most suspicious of her intentions. Did she really seem so aggressive? Senka did not think that she was exuding any malice, but perhaps there was something about her that appeared threatening. Or perhaps he was suspicious by nature. Since she did not know what, if anything, she had done to alarm him, she decided to carry on as though this was a perfectly normal conversation.

“Well, then,” she said. “Greetings, Marlon. No, these are not my lands. My pack lives far from here. I am simply on a journey, collecting stories.” She cocked her head slightly. “What about you?”

She hoped he would relax, soon. Despite being a warrior by necessity, Senka preferred to avoid fights most of the time, so she really had no intention of attacking him. Besides, she would much rather have an interesting conversation than an uneasy standoff.

Pleased that he seemed to be relaxing, Senka sat back on her haunches, then noticed with some amusement that the little stream still separated them. Boundaries. She grinned at his question.

“Indeed, I have been quite successful so far,” she replied. “Though some wolves are more willing than others to part with their tales.” She considered his words, but had to admit that she had never crossed paths with another like her. “You might be right, though. Beyond my pack, I am not sure how common wandering storytellers are.” It was something that she had never considered before. Oh, well. Something to ponder another time. Right now, however…

“You say you are a lone? Were you born as such?” She had met wolves who were the children of lones, or were abandoned so young that they might as well have never had a pack. Had that been his fate, as well, or did he have a different story to tell? Had he ever run with a pack? She was curious.

Senka watched as he seemed to shrink in upon himself. Oh, yes. This wolf had a story, and it was not a happy one. A brief flicker of sympathy swept through her. Perhaps it was not fair of her to drag up painful memories with her questions, but the pull of her curiosity was too strong to resist. Besides, she had heard that talking about things helped. She had never had cause to try it for herself, but it seemed to make other wolves feel better when they spoke to her, sometimes.

Still, what a strange way to phrase his words. As a stranger, she would find only questions? Was his old pack gone? Where? Why was he not with them? Ah, she had so many questions. Deciding that there was no point in just thinking about them, she spoke up.

“Jewels of the Meadow is a beautiful name,” she said gently, both because it was true and to soften the blow, if possible. “Would you tell me what happened?” There. That was something resembling tactful, especially since Senka had always been straightforward with her curiosity. At least it wasn’t completely blunt, by her standards.

“No need to worry about offending me,” Senka assured him. “I have come across other packs where natural coloring is not desired.” Her thoughts went briefly to Kamiya and Kai, the outrageously bright-coated pair of wolves she had once met. She hoped Kai was being true to his word and breaking away from his pack’s traditions for good, but that was neither here nor there.

“Your lands sound like they were lovely,” she added, though she wondered if, perhaps, she should remain silent. This could not be easy to talk about and perhaps her interruptions were not appreciated.

Still, the compliment was genuine. In some ways, his pack sounded similar to hers. Specific duties were given to certain wolves, though the method of determining who did what was a bit different. His lands, too, reminded Senka of her own. There was ample den space, though her pack was a little more communal than his sounded, and her lands were very rich. While his pack seemed to focus strongly on color, hers had their own traditions, as well, most of which were based around the life-giving gift from the gods: fire.

Belatedly, Senka realized that Marlon must have cared for the young, with his pretty purple markings. For herself, she had never had many dealings with pups. Of course, she was barely out of adolescence, herself, and she had been too busy training under Bryanni to have had much time for anything else. Ah. And there she was again, right back to where she had started from. Bryanni. She had no idea where these morose thoughts kept springing from, but she saw no reason to focus on her own when there was someone else’s pain to consider.

With a firm shake of her ruff, Senka banished those thoughts once again and focused on Marlon.

So, he was one of the wolves who tended the pups, Senka realized, her assumption confirmed. But Helena. Who was Helena? Ah, his mate. They were struck by an attack in the middle of the night. But who would do such a thing? To what end? Did Marlon know? Well, Senka was certain that he would be getting to that, if she was patient. For now, she need only listen. She could always ask questions when he was done.

“Your mate sounds like she was very loyal,” she observed. Then, because she felt like all she was doing was giving worn-out platitudes, she said, “I know of someone like that. His name was Torin. He was not a great warrior, but he was so fiercely loyal that he gave his life so that his pack might slay their enemy.” Her ruby eyes grew distant, lost in history. In a dreamy tone, she added, “He saved them all.” Senka blinked and looked at Marlon.

“What happened next?”