Logan sat from a distance as he watched her. Since Echo...well, he wasn't sure what to make of the situation, what to make of himself, his family, his life here. But she was different, interesting, and he felt like she had answers that he could not find on his own. Bright eyes watching her dark form move from the beach to the underbrush, he kept his distance. Standing, watching at attention. His elongated fangs protruded from his mouth and his tongue lulled from his maw. His curled tail twitching as she moved. He didn't understand much about her. Only knew she bore a mark, but scarred into her fur and skin unlike Rage, Ryu, Ano and Tearh. Why had she chosen, or who had chosen it for her, to have it bore into her flesh? These questions did not scare him from her being, but merely drew him in further towards his conquest of wanting information. Something in those eyes, tired but blazing, he wanted to know.

Dragonsrage did not let most call her by name. Most, actually did not come across her. She tried to stay as far away as she could from those in the pack she did not trust, but, she admitted, she felt lonely, and betrayed by those of her past. The wound on her rear leg was a constant reminder as it hadn't healed right, and never would. She had wounds, scars that wouldn't heal and would reopen under certain pressure or climate conditions. Winter was the worst. She once pondered changing her name and running away from her home, her original home. But it was taken from her before she had the chance, the choice. Like Rage, she had experienced a great loss, and in many ways, she and Rage shared a spirit that none else would be able to understand. But the emptiness she felt, was daunting, overbearing, and as she stalked through the Outriders edgelands of the shoreline, she hummed to herself a song she couldn't remember anymore but in memory of sound.

He did not move from his spot of seclusion, he knew that of her. She was trained, by someone, sometime. And her skills were amazing. He let himself familiarize his nose with her scent as she passed and as she walked by him he stayed completely still so that she would not spot him, the orange and pale mass in the greenery around them. It surrounded them like the colors of the sky surrounds the setting sun, but here, now, he was the sun, she the passing new moon, dark but intent with something to arise, he thought, or perhaps wanted to rise into anew. Could he challenge himself, though, he wondered, to gather the strength, the courage to pursue what he wanted, or just lay in wait for his days, watch and protect her from afar. He for a long while did not want to admit that his life with Echo had ended, that family had gone on without him, without his choice, wants, needs, but, could he bring himself to move on now. Was it time, could he do it? Could he, really, truly? It was confusing, taunting and daunting, but he was unsure of his ability. Yes, he was able bodied, minded, but hearted? He was unsure.

You must always recognize your enemy, and never sleep where you are vulnerable. Chin up, back straight, do not lower yourself to a subordinate position, do not show weakness, do not, do not, she heard in her head. Repeated several times a day sometimes, the dark voice that had stripped everything from her, changed who she was, who she could have been. Now look at her. She huffed and shook her head while walking, weaving through the trees, one bush, a birch, another birch and then a tall sentinel pine. Too many to count and she waded in and out of different vegetation that wished to overtake her body, drown her in greens and browns but still, her dark color came out once again onslaughting the essences around her. With her mind on rampage, she did not notice the sun hiding in the underbrush watching.

He once wished to see the world, but his father had other plans. The pack from which he came was a born warrior pack that was bent on being the best, guarding the best, hunting the best, birthing the strongest and dispelling the weakest. He had to work from the ripe young age of newborn to just before he left as a new adult to be what he was. Broad, strong, able, but he was soft and tender beneath all of that. It was what led to his downfall, his need to leave. They were too strong, sometimes, and an allied pack wished to join forces at one time, but their wants and needs of pack females, pups, were too much and Logan could not stand to agree. He wished to fight back but was silenced. Wolves typically mate for life, that he knew, and it wasn't until another disbanded or died that he would ever choose another. But this pack, they wanted only the best blood, to dispel any needed, Logan left. He watched her disappear, and moved silently, heavy pawed after her. He felt a need to protect, for some reason, a reason to be close, warm, and he found it with her. He had not felt that feeling in such a long time. But could he tell her, would she want to know everything about him, about before? Could he even bring himself to tell her if she asked?

She remembered birches, lots of birches, but scarred with strange claw marks from two leggers. They were targets, she remembered, they were the onces that caused devastation. But she never felt the need to go after them. At one time, she remembered now, she believed those that had taken her diseased, as they spoke strange, and looked and acted strange. Perhaps something had overtaken them, not grief or mourning as she had suffered, but something dark that had conquered their hearts and minds.

She seemed in thought as she passed, he noted, and wondered what could be plaguing her mind so much that she would be silent almost every time he would see her. Logan had only heard her voice a pawful of times, and wished, wondered if the tone could soothe his aching heart.

She came to stand at one of the cliffs that towered over the lower lands of the outriders. As she peered out, she raised her nose to the wind as it blew against her, passed and behind her. It was tangy, salty, but refreshing. Since she had come here she felt different, almost rekindled. It was because Rage was here, and the others. The mark she had born upon herself had a story, too long to tell anyone if they cared to know. All anyone needed to know was it was a part of her forever, and it was a constant reminder of who she was, and what she is. She knew Rage's story, the valley's story, Philokiss had told her. It was a long and perilous journey Rage had gone through, and she had endured one similar, but farther away in distance. It seemed right that she had come here after everything, but could she now find peace? She sat, looking longingly over everything and sighed. Ears attent she listened and let a soft whining howl come from her maw. Not one of calling, but of telling.

He watched her and as the sound came from her his ears fell back and he removed himself from the underbrush. He walked to her slowly, gently, and his paws molded to the earth and soil beneath him. His heavy weight was almost silent against the earth and it seemed to sigh at the light drum beats he created. He was slow to approach, cautious, but respectful and hoped she saw that. She turned to look at him, her dark eyes meeting his, and he offered a faint smile, and said nothing. In silence and smiles was understanding between them, and he walked to sit behind her, leaned a little close, but not too much to crowd. He crooned out a low noise as well to her, to the packlands, and sat beside her feeling warmth.

As he came from the bushes, she felt a relief. She was a good tracker, but he had knowledge as well. As he revealed himself she recognized the fiery color of a summer sunset in his pelt, and the dark stripes. Logan, was his name, but she did not speak it, she didn't have to. As he came beside her and made a noise, she smiled to him. Her ears fell back to back his and she leaned closer to him, leaning her weight, her scarred side against his heavy yet warm side and softly whined again, their tones mingling in the air. Perhaps there was peace to be found here, she thought, and perhaps he could help her find it.


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