All thought melts away in the flight. All worry about my domain. All thought of my son –

No. Not all thought of my son.

My wing motions are frenzied and desperate. I am almost frail in this state.

I must rest.

I only hope I can remember the location.

This realm is one of events and consequence. I often find it difficult to grok the ways in which time is woven throughout its threads.

Elysion is not like that. It has neither time nor space and yet it has a myriad of inhabitants. Mostly the Dreamcarvers.

The wolves were someone different.

Everything had changed when I’d fallen in with the Coven. I’d stopped calling on the wolves.

Kevin had happened.

And now he had slipped through my fingers.

I hadn’t seen the wolves since long before my internment. Long ago we’d run in the forests, the Endless Patrol.

But I had become domesticated.

Who is to say they would answer my voice?