You'll see her again, Comadre says. The dragon seems to forget at times that the pair practically share a mind, and his attempt to inspire hope in his bonded fails quite miserably. It was useless to try to arouse within the unlikely pair a glimmer of hope, when all they had seen thus far had been shadow and darkness. The shades had taken the Woodlands, tearing into the ancient trees mercilessly. When the herd had left, Osiris fled to the mountains, seeking out the only family he had left - the wolves.

When he had arrived, the sister he had gotten quite close to was anxious. Quite a few of his former friends had fallen victim to the callous cruelty of the shades, which paid no heed to the difference in species. Her own mate had recently met his end lower in the hills, attempting to find a clear way from the land of Isilme they sought to flee before the spread of the disease made any possibility of escaping impossible. The sorrow which lined the features of her face was reflected in that of the great wolf now, as he limps through a foreign forest, golden eyes hardly capturing the scenes, too busy dwelling in the past.

With the help of their half-brother, Osiris, and his companion Comadre, the remaining members of the small pack made it out from the land of Isilme alive. However, along the way, several of them had gotten injured - Osiris no exception. Since the time had passed, injuries and blood had healed, but the injury to his front leg had never quite ceased its pain. An infection had festered at the base of his paw for some time now, oozing occasionally, but staying relatively contained. His leg remained swollen up to the joint of the knee, making it quite difficult to walk. The gash, now months old, refused to close completely because of it. The wolves had tried to aid their larger friend, but had not the tools necessary.

None of them were healers.

The ragged group of wolves had remained with Osiris, including the sullen matriarch of their pack. They had traveled slowly, mainly due to the injuries they had obtained from the exit from the shade-ridden land of Isilme and the harsh month of winter. Now, they moved more or less at the pace the hybrid's injured paw would stand. When they unknowingly entered the land of Helovia, the hybrid, dragon, and small trio of wolves, moved no differently than if they were still in an unpopulated land. Heads were held low, shuffling gaits around, except for Comadre - the ever cheerful dragon who flew beside his bonded quietly now.

Purple eyes watched what the golden ones would not - they watched for any familiar face, but mostly for that of a dappled pony's hidden behind a bulk of white hair. To hold hope at this point was foolish, but no one had ever denied that Comadre was a fool.
""