The journey to the south had been long and arduous, farther than the questionable inn he and Vidalia had investigated, and placed in a much warmer climate than Raelan might’ve liked. Still, something joyful moved within him as his paws carried him toward a new destination. A purpose, he realized with quiet clarity, that made him feel good.

Apparently, there was some sort of wedding here that he and Vidalia would be…crashing attending. A good place, he figured, to learn the crowds of Mythris—the packs, the groups, the nomads and rogues. And, if he and Vidalia were lucky enough, an alliance could be made with those in the south.

However, it was in the midst of this journey toward Verdant’s Grace that Raelan had veered elsewhere, parting from the masses of wolves that migrated in droves toward what he believed was the wedding. And before they were able to cross the threshold between neutral and inhabited lands, he had followed the sound of crashing waves—curiosity written plainly across his features.

He had witnessed the north with all of its snow, frost, and ice. They had settled in the ease of their temperate climates, filled with the comfort of a warm breeze, and now he had the sudden opportunity to explore the south. The heat was noticeable, humid and sticky along the darkness of his fur, but the crashing of waves with the balmy wind was a pleasant surprise.

The Knight followed the oscillating sound, inhaling the gentle scent of salt within the wind.

He had thought himself alone, at least for the moment. However, it was through the paleness of his stare that he had caught the silhouette of another, sitting poised atop the earth, as the wind sent hands running through her fur.

He blinked.

Was she one of the wedding attendants?

He had heard this land was controlled by an emperor, and in Raelan’s world, it had not been unfamiliar to have a guide escort them through the territory…

Excuse me, miss. He called out to her as his larger paws approached. Are you a part of the wedding party?