Hahaha! WELL! My Tales seem to be getting too long! If you wanna read them, please do at my Group! "The Tales of Shadowolf". Come read me in numbers and let me know what you think, kay?
Unknown "Shadowolf" Injured - 16 years, 7 months, 6 days ago

With a yawn, Shadowolf slowly stretched to awakening and shook his fur with one quick movement. This morning he was up early, and the sunlight did not even have the time to glide over his head to wake him up. He felt completely relaxed and not tired at all. He had slept so well he could barely feel the need to lie down again, and where he usually either dreamed of his parents or of nothing at all, this time he had actually dreamed of nice, pleasant things. The wolf had awakened to a state of himself he had not felt like in what seemed like forever and he started to think that long-lost feelings and occurrences were starting to appear strangely often, recently. But no matter, all the better. If he was going to feel that good, why argue with it?
He looked up at the rising sunlight through the small opening and he took a few steps forward to bathe in its warmth.
“Today is a going to be a good day. Whatever happens, there’s something good about today, somewhere.” He thought, wagging his tail lightly.
He closed his eyes with a smile and quickly turned to the side of the cave and picked up one of his usual dark blankets. As he walked away, he stopped and looked back at it, seeing it was a little dusty. Normally, he couldn’t have cared less, but this time he actually took off the blanket, picked another one which appeared to be free of any dusty appearance, and set that one on his back instead. He looked at his side and, satisfied, he walked over to the tunnel, next to which he picked his traveling bag in his mouth, as he had always done, and exited.
However good the mood he was in, Shadowolf was still taken off balance by his own attitude: he wasn’t particularly happy, but he felt good. His steps seemed lighter and the morning, even with the sun lower in the sky as when he usually left home, seemed clearer. Added to this, the path to the oak tree appeared significantly shorter than usual that day. With raised eyebrows, he smiled lightly and simply as he realized it and went on to the feet of the great tree. The light blue electric arcs of his Force danced around him and jolted from under his paws as they connected with the earth with every step. Every part of his being was completely ready and alert.
He dropped his bag against the oak and put down the blanket right next to it. Most of the rest of the animals of the plains had not arrived yet and most of the early birds looked at his questioningly as they passed. Shadowolf walked over his blanket and sat down, his stature high and his head straight, looking off the distance. In front of him, far, far away at the horizon, he could see the birth of the woods where he had went the night before, and without actually meaning it, his mind drifted to wondering when that little crow actually arrived at the center of the plains, everyday.
And it was then, at that exact moment, that the light blue sparks around him began melting to the ground and changing to a deep magenta.
Quickly he looked left and right, but he saw nothing at all. Nothing he could find at the distance either, but he thought that at that distance it would never have such effect on his Force anyways. And then he found a shadow on the ground.
It was oddly shaped and that same shape seemed to change at every moment, sometimes slower than others, but generally he saw it was getting bigger and bigger. As he raised his head to find the source of that shadow, something soft and dark fell on his head and covered his eyes. While he could not see anything he knew that texture perfectly well and recognized what it was instantly. He shook his head lightly, and in front of him, in a soft pile, down fell one of his black blankets.
He stared at it for a second, then looked down at the one he was sitting on at the moment. With horror, he realized what it meant and his heart started racing like mad once again. His Force was now raging in a furious yet gentle storm of lightning drops.
“So it really IS yours, in the end… isn’t it Darkie?”
Shadowolf gasped and looked up behind him. On one of the lower branches of the oak tree, he saw the little crow, looking right back at him. He found himself speechless and his eyes widened as his mind reeled.
“Oh crap oh crap oh crap… oh CRAP!”
With one small hop and one or two flapping of its wings, the dark bird landed straight in front of him, and turning around it said:
“I found this blanket right next to my home, deep inside the woods I live in, yesterday night, right after I heard something I couldn’t see run away at impressive speed out of hiding… would it be yours by any chance?” she asked, staring up at him with a questioning face.
“Uh, well… actually I –”
“Don’t lie to me Darkie. I know you always come here, at this exact spot, with that same kind of blanket every day.”
The wolf was speechless once more. “So much for a ‘good day’ feeling,” he thought, with irony. He opened his mouth and, after a deep breath and a sigh, let out his answer.
“…yeah… it’s mine…”
He lowered his head in shame and desolation and he closed his eyes. At the same time, he couldn’t believe how foolish he had been to fail noticing he had returned home without his blanket, especially after finding his travel bag on the way back.
“Well, mister, there’s only one thing I’ve got to say to you now, and I’d think it’s well-deserved.”
Keeping his neck and ears low all the same, he lifted his head slowly, wincing lightly. All of the magnificent feelings of lightness and good mood had finally left and now he was simply waiting to receive an, indeed, well-deserved magnificent blow. Her eyes were serious and almost seemed angry and although her force was still slipping in liquid fireballs, he felt nothing like safety or comfort at that moment.

Suddenly, she closed her eyes and her face brightened up, and he definitely could see the edges of a sweet smile. Before he had even time to react, understand or even feel relieved, she asked:
“So why did you leave?”
Oh yes, now he was puzzled.
“Uh… what?”
“I asked why you left,” she repeated, with a joyful tone, “No one’s ever followed me that far before, and I have very few visitors in there, which usually makes me quite lonely.”
Shadowolf felt so lost he found it almost funny. He could make no sense out of what was happening. None at all. The small bird opened her eyes again and continued.
“You run way too fast for me, though. I never caught up once I found out who it was. I would’ve loved to have you stay if I knew it was you!”
She tilted her head and nodded to herself. His mouth open, motionless and under the complete effect of surprise. His heart made a spin and his legs felt weak. On the ground a great wave of sizzles erupted from his paws. He couldn’t say a word. The crow hopped even closer to him. Her Force’s small flames seemed to expand and try to envelop him from where they were.
“So, tell me! Why did you follow me yesterday night?” she asked, joyful curiosity in her voice.
“Uh… well… I wanted to know something more about you, but I didn’t know exactly what…. so I figured that if I followed you, I might’ve –”
He stopped himself and sideways. He felt that he wasn’t making any sense anymore and he was embarrassed. He had never felt quite that embarrassed before, in fact. But the little bird smiled.
“Oh! That’s a nice thought though!”
She laughed of a little, light-hearted and adorable laugh. Turning her head so he could see her eye, she winked and said:
“Well, I never would have imagined that in that quiet and cool shell you were such an adorable and nice guy, Darkie, I’m surprised!” and to that she laughed a little more. “I should have known by the comfort you are for the hugs I give you, though… oh! Speaking of which!”
She hopped, and in a beat or two, she was on his back, her wings around his neck, nuzzling behind his ear.
“That’s for being a shy, secret good guy,” she said, gripping him a little tighter.
At t
Unknown "Shadowolf" Injured - 16 years, 7 months, 10 days ago

After a few minutes of desperate running, he finally made the sharp right towards the plains, following his steps back. Turning abruptly, he slid a few feet and stumbled, scrambling to his legs as fast as he could before resuming his course. Behind him, twirls of dead leaves followed, thrown aside by his solitary stampede, pulled after him by his sheer speed. His lungs were threatening to blow and his heart to punch through his chest, but he was not tired the slightest. In fact, although he was running at high speed, he could have run a lot faster, and he knew it. Somewhere in him, deep inside of him, he did not want to leave. However, at this moment, that feeling made no sense at all to the dark wolf and he kept on running. He could see the moonlight in the clearing far ahead, indicating the opening to the plains, and he felt a little relief. Left and right, he steered around trees and jumped over fallen logs. He was quite inexperienced in woodland traveling and he was greatly surprised that he was doing so well in navigating through all of it without bumping into something earlier. It is to be said he never really had any use for his reflexes since a long time and figured they had wasted away. He was happy to find out he was wrong.
He passed the last marks of his prints and kept on running headlong, actually accelerating to close the gap between his position and the plains, the freedom of his panicked state, as fast as possible. Around him the sizzles of blue sparked out and away in the darkness, leaving a fading and shining trail behind, blown away shortly after by the floating and dispersed vessel of dry leaves caught in his wind current.
He looked behind him with a quick check but saw nothing. He looked again on the other side. Still nothing. No crow, no sounds of beating wings, no red-colored fire in the distance behind him. Nothing.
He faced the plains again, frowning. He could simply not understand how it was that he was not being pursued. To him it made no sense. Of course he was not unhappy that he wasn’t, but he completely failed to see how it was even possible that he was almost out of the woods without being followed even then. He had been hectic in his escape and he was certain that in his panic there was no way subtlety could have been spared, rendering him a perfect target for detection. Even if it was practically pitch black in these woods, anyone could have followed him simply by following the sounds he was making in his alarmed run. He shook his head briskly. Might as well leave his luck be.

Shadowolf finally reached the outskirts. He boomed out of the limits like a bullet, the trail of leaves behind him dispersing violently like hitting an unseen wall and gliding softly to the ground, but he was not done. Not yet. To him, he still had a long way to go before he would be completely safe. Unlike his previous trip, this time he only needed to go in a straight line and cover wasn’t needed anymore. This time, it was all about getting back home as fast as possible.
Something caught his eye along his way and he skidded to a stop on the low grass, turning halfway around in the same motion, and leaped back to see what he missed, all in at most a second. In front of him lay his traveling bag.
”Damn. I must have dropped it while I was following her there.”
He tilted his head and frowned.
”How the hell did I drop it without me noticing?”
A small noise shook him out of question. He looked up in front of him. He was certain he had heard a crackle in the woods and such a noise, at the moment, urged him to leave. In a split second he had picked his bag in his mouth again and spun around to resume his escape.
”Good thing I spotted it. Could’ve been pretty bad if I had lost it here in the open.”
On the corner of his mouth, a smile appeared. Such excitement, such a rushing feeling… it felt so good and he had missed it, he thought.

It didn’t take him long to reach his top speed again, and in a matter of minutes he passed the great oak tree. Only then did he slow down, but not by much. After all that running, a small need was accepted to catch his breath, but he didn’t need to stop completely yet. Through his mind, things occurred to him which he couldn’t calculate before. He had never run so fast before for so long, especially not without any pursuer or a threat of any kind. This made absolutely no sense! What had he been running away from?
A crow?
The thought alone made him snicker, but it still irritated him not to understand. It was completely ridiculous and he did not know why, but his body had taken flight and his mind and common sense had deserted him at a completely unexpected moment, throwing him off balance. Now that he was back in control, he would have expected them to make more sense but it made none and this was a disturbing realization in the mind of this usually calm and calculated wolf.
Shadowolf had to admit, he was dumbfounded.
Arriving at his hill, without stopping, he went around it. Taking a small leap, he body slammed the boulder in front of his passage, moving it aside, and the instant he landed back down, he darted inside. Turning around and backing up at the same time, he grabbed the small rope in his jaws and pulled frantically, shutting the entrance closed in a record time, and leapt down the tunnel at once.
When he arrived in the center of his cave, where the moonlight hit the floor, he came to an abrupt stop, shortly sliding on the ground, lifting a thin cloud of dust from under his paws. Everything around him changed from blurry to solid in a split second.
He took a second to realize that he was out of breath and gasped for air, surprised. His side was still aching a bit from colliding with the rock outside and his lungs were ablaze in his body, burning under the thunderous rhythm of his raging heart trying to savagely rip through his skin. His legs shook at every beat and at every beat he heard his breath come out in loud breaths. He chuckled.
There was a slight pause, and he chuckled again, a little more while catching his breath. And then, all of a sudden, laughter emerged of his throat.
Lifting his head up high, his mouth open, Shadowolf laughed out loud. His laughter filled the cave and resounded in his ears, a sound he had not heard himself make in years, so long he knew it probably didn’t sound the same the last time he did either. He was definitely happy. Why he was not sure, but he had not felt this light hearted in a long time and it felt good.

When his laughter ceased, he looked around him, a smile hanging on his face. He then looked through the small opening to his cave, showing him the moon, and he found it was smiling back at him. He turned around and lied down, his body bathing in the moonlight, crossed his paws in front of him and lay his head on it with his new smile. Slowly, his mind full of the wonders he had seen in the depth of the woods where the beautiful little crow lived, Shadowolf gave in to sleep.
For the first time in a very, very long time, the dark wolf could not wait for tomorrow to come.
Unknown "Shadowolf" Injured - 16 years, 7 months, 11 days ago

It was truly getting late now. It took him a while to catch up to the little crow but nothing that proved to be difficult. It was quickly flapping forward but it didn't come close to worrying the wolf; Shadowolf was well aware of his speed and it had always been one of his greatest assets. But now, the objective wasn't to cover lost grounds anymore. Close enough for his tastes, for the moment he only wanted to follow her without her knowing about it. As confident as he was in his stealth skills, the dark wolf strangely found additional pressure in staying hidden from her sights at this time. Making a subtle slalom behind trees, logs and boulders, occasionally using nightfall's advantage to pass unseen in the taller grass, he was making sure that he was giving as little a hint as possible of his presence.
Between each hiding place, he found himself captivated by her sight. Her ruby flames, encircling her form, relaxed, burning totally unhindered by her flying, was a beautiful sight to behold in front of the darkening evening. Shadowolf was somehow drawn to this contemplation, pulled towards her, following her just like a moth seeks out moonlight.
His passage was quick and calculated, and she didn't seem to notice his presence. He was very careful to avoid branches, leaves and anything that could alert her of his presence.
Soon enough, he noticed that as they traveled, the grass first seemed to get taller and taller. Trees started to appear more frequently and got closer and closer together, their branches more and more intertwined, making the woods they were entering darker and darker. Surely he would have had a lot more trouble following the crow if he couldn't have seen the gentle red flames around her body. Thanks to that, however, he was able to navigate after her without too much trouble. In these woods, she slowed down her pace and put less effort in speed, as she was lightly steering around obstacles in the dark. It was obvious that she knew this place by heart.
"Geez, and I thought I was the only one that traveled a great lot to get to the plains," he thought, amused.
After a moment, the little bird made a loop around a thin, almost naked pine tree and continued on a sharp left. As soon as she did, she began a slow and steady blending of gliding and softly beating her wings, just enough to keep her aloft. The wolf came to a stop. He looked at where the crow was headed, and then turned his head to look at where he had come from. He began to think.
"Hm. This is getting tricky," he reflected silently. "We did travel in more or less a straight line from the plains to here, but this is showing promise of a more diverse route from now on."
Thoughts were unfolding in a flash in his mind, fluent and uninterrupted by his concentration on the little bird.
"There's two things that require attention now: to begin with, as much as I trust my sense of orientation, I'm not at all certain of where I am and it is absolute that I have none of the checkpoints that she has. Second of all, she doesn't flap her wings half as strong or fast as she used to, and she's going a lot slower... meaning her hearing is far better now than when we were getting here."
He frowned. He took a lower stance and breathed deeply.
"Well, guess there's no taking chances from here."
As he finished, the Force surrounding his body started concentrating around his legs. The sparks became softer and slower and slowly attached themselves and stuck to his paws like electric spider webs. He started to advance slowly but precisely, his sight set on his pursued in a serious stare, matching her speed. As his paw came to the earth, he stepped on a dry branch. However, as soon as he made contact with it, the pale blue glow of his force enveloped the dead tree branch.
As it snapped, no noise was heard.
He kept on moving forward, dead leaves and dry soil rendered noiseless by his will crumbling under his steps, and as each paw left the ground, a glowing and bright print of it was left shining softly on the soil like ink on paper.
Silent and focused, he was marking his track.

With a slow glide, the little crow was making its way deeper into the forest, Shadowolf, prowling, close on her tail, his gaze intense like when hunting prey. The path went on like this for a while, and through the wolf's concentration it seemed fairly close to an hour when, finally, he was forced to a stop by what he saw.
He hid behind a large tree stump a fair distance behind his pursued as he saw her land on a small hill to which the base seemed to have been purposefully cut clean in the shape on one large stair encircling the it. Down that same giant stair came flowing crystal clear and bright spring water, descending in a wide waterfall from a source somewhere probably somewhere behind the hill, creating a small, perfectly pure moat at the foot of the hill, the same as a fountain, creating the illusion of a flowing and floating island in the dark woods. As she hopped closer to the top his view widened and he was surprised to realize that he had failed to notice a huge weeping willow sitting atop of the hill, its long and fine branches falling just above the moat and filled of hundreds, maybe thousands of small and beautiful white flowers, giving the impression of a gentle fortress shining in the moonlight, with waves of light reflected by the water on its flowery walls.
As she got even closer to the top, she ceased to hop and started a relaxed, fine walk toward the trunk, taking Shadowolf's attention to the base of the tree. He noticed that its trunk was covered half way up by a light moss, but the tree seemed still very much alive. He could also see that some of its roots were fairly out of the earth, giving birth to a large and dark passage that seemed to lead deeper in the tree and in the hill altogether.
As she got near the entrance, she stopped and reached out to one of the flowers hanging from one of the branches by extending a wing, touching it gently. With his piercing eyes, the wolf saw the little crow collect a few drops of water from the petals and hold the tiny pond in her black and soft feathers. He was now completely captivated by what he was seeing, his mouth slightly open in the haze he had entered.
She lifted her wing and made the little drops slide down and off her grasp, raining on her head and cheeks. She lifted her head and it trickled down on the ground, leaving a sparkling liquid trail on her dark feathers, her body lit by the never ending moonlight. And as her red Force kindled softly around her, it recoiled from the flowers it brushed and danced around it like to the rhythm of an unheard and perfect melody of nature, as if not to ever harm the harmony around them.
Shadowolf was now completely absorbed. He was completely ravished by the distinct beauty of her and her sparkling palace and he could no longer concentrate. His mind was empty and full, and his heart was drilling in chest like he had gotten to greatest, most beautiful scare of his life.
Slowly, around him, the sizzles and sparks of his thunderous Force began to melt and slide to the ground in bright drops of rain, and he never noticed that the energy around his paws was slipping away.
He could see her close her eyes as she relaxed, completely at ease, and without thinking about it, he closed his own and breathed in to the purity of the woods. An agitated calmness, the eye of the storm. That was it. Perfectly at ease.
He felt at home. And he smiled softly.

A loud snap from under him threw him out of his dreaminess as he gasped in surprise.
"What the--!"
Quickly, panicked, he looked over at the island, carefully behind his cover. She had opened her eyes again and was now looking in his direction. And in his great despair he heard her ask:
"Who's there?"
His heart beat like mad and it was the starting gunshot of his rush. He frantically darted in the dark forest, away from the willow, twigs snapping and dead leaves crunching under his crushing steps. Following the line he had left behind him, he gave little t
Unknown "Shadowolf" Injured - 16 years, 7 months, 12 days ago

Slowly, Shadowolf approached the oak tree and looked up at it. After a brief moment, he shook his head as if it was nonsense, a shake that seemed completely ordinary to him like he had done it one hundred times at least. He dropped his bag at the bottom of the tree and let himself fall on his belly. He watched the other beasts pass by and looked at the empty horizon, where nothing moved. He let out a quick sigh, lifting a thin cloud of dust in front of his face. He closed his eyes.
"This sucks," he mumbled, almost as a solitary complaint.
He was tense, and for a long time he remained with his eyes closed, but the sleep would just not come to him. No matter how many times he'd get up, turn around, lie on his side, place his blanket differently, try to sleep again, his nap was not happening. He could understand where it came from, but he usually managed it anyways. He finally gave up and lay on his belly, paws crossed like he always did and rested his head on them, sighing deeply.
He had not always been like this, however. A long time ago, Shadowolf would cross all of this distance every morning to sit at the base of the huge oak and look at the horizon from dawn til dusk, with exceptional attention and determination, sleeping only at night, away from stares and gazes, only to come back the day after and start the same pattern once more. Because of it, because he was always looking away in the distance, while it was easy for him to get attention from the individuals around, he rarely made friends or had discussion with anyone. He would remember them, sometimes, the people that gave some time to talk to him and eventually left him alone like everyone else. He didn't want them to leave... but he didn't really care if they stayed.
To Shadowolf, it would require him the most perfect, uninterrupted concentration to stop what he was looking for in the horizon; even a small, very little glint of black waves in the distance... the ondulations of the energy surrounding his father.
But now, years later, he had grown weary and discouraged. Clearly, to him, his father had left never to return. Yet, he still fought to believe he would, one day. He didn't know why he hung on so hard, but there was something inside of him that made him keep the effort. And so he would, but he could not believe as hard as he did anymore. So many people came and left, and not once did he even hear gossip of a passerby about an eye-scarred grey wolf. Not once was his father part of the scenery since that saddest of nights. Now, even though he would be there every day, he did not really believe in it anymore. Even in his heart, it was lost hope now, a faint mirage of a dream.

While he thought about all of it, wandering in his own mind, he eventually fell asleep, still as tense, but exhausted as he was, his body could only take so much.

All of a sudden, he found himself on a cloudy evening looming over a dray wasteland. He was running, wildly, his tongue hanging from his side, after a small black cloud in the distance which seemed to run away from his desperate image.
"WAIT!... WAAAIT!," he yelled, out of breath. "WAIT FOR ME!"
He could feel that his legs couldn't hold up the rhythm much longer. He felt them pull and tug in themselves and ache. His chest was about to blow, yet still he shouted.
"WAAAIT!"
A dead leaf smacked on his face as he ran, and he was so worn out that he felt it pinch and he winced. Yet he gave another push, lifted his head back up. Tears started to glide behind him. His throat was on fire.
"DAAD! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WAIT UP!"
But yet, like every time he called out, as far as he could, the cloud only seemed to get smaller and farther. His voice was shaken by his cries and it shattered. And at the same time, his legs couldn't run anymore, and slowly the pace decreased.
Eventually he was walking, and it was so hard that he had to stop, husking, gasping for his breath, sobbing, his head dangling toward the dry earth.
"Won't you... please... wait for me..please..," he whined, his voice whistling in effort.
"...hey..."
Tired and slow, his ears capted the sound and raised. His head rose painfully.
"...hey..."
He looked around, but no one was there.
Then the ground began to rumble a bit and he lost balance and fell on his side.
"....hello?....," said the ghost voice.
Forcing his head up from the ground, he pushed the air from his lungs:
"Dad?!"

With a gasp he opened his eyes, suddenly thrown awake.
Right in front of his nose, bent towards him at mere millimeters from him was the tiny crow. Still shaken, Shadowolf swiftly pulled back with yet another small gasp. Obviously suprised, the small black bird jumped with a tiny shriek, her Force ablaze in every direction like a red fury. After flapping her wings several panicky times, it landed in front of him again.
"Wow! Wow! What's wrong with you? Am I really that scary?!"
But he wasn't really listening. He was looking around nervously, low on his legs, like he could hear some ghost running around. Tilting her head to the side, the little bird observed and seemed to understand that she had perhaps frightened him. She hopped to him in a small curve to the side of his head and softly put a wing on his eyes.
"There, there, shhhh... it's okay.."
And as soon as she did, he stopped moving. Gradually, he calmed down and took deep breaths in and out. He was recovering from his panic. Slowly, the violent sparks that his Force had became went soft and dropped like thunder rain.
"You were agitated when I came across you, in your sleep. You were mumbling and whining... what in the world were you dreaming about..?"
For a crow, Shadowolf found, her voice was surprisingly soft. He had noticed before, but it was remarkable now.
"I... it's nothing. It's not important," he said, slowly getting back up. "Forget what you saw."
"After the fright you gave me?! I wouldn't think so..."
"Just... nevermind, okay?," the wolf said, sitting up, looking at the dropping sun far away.
The bird once more tilted its head. It seemed to wonder.
"Hmm... alright."
As soon as she said so, she hopped up, beat her wings once or twice and landed on his back. Looking down at him from one side, she said:
"It's getting late, I'd better get going!"
Before he could do or say anything, the dark wolf felt two small wings capture his neck from behind and the crow's small head press against the fur behind his ear, rocking softly left and right.
He was less surprised, this time to see the magenta colored rainfall of fire and lightning around them, but he had to say it was still quite amazing. He felt wonderful, for some reason, and the little body was so warm and soft.
"Alright. Gotta go Darkie! I'll see you soon, okay?," the bird said, taking flight.
"...Darkie?!"
The little crow swooped around, gliding.
"You don't mind me calling you Darkie, right?," she said, shyly. And somewhere Shadowolf swore he saw a little smile.
"...uh... I... guess not..."
"Super! Okay, I'm really going to be late if I keep blabbering. Gotta go. Take care okay? Buh bye!"
And the little flyer turned around and flapped away. A few moments after she had departed, as she was getting further and further, the wolf mumbled to himself, once more:
"....Darkie...?"
It was getting late, however, and he had to get going in some time too. He put the blanket on his back and the bag in his mouth. Today, he had enough and he would head home early. He started walking back home.

A few steps away, he stopped and looked back at where the crow had flew off. A little far away, he could still see it flap its little wings. He looked at her for a moment then looked in front of him, towards his destination. His eyes went to the side as he seemed to think through everything, and then he did the most peculiar thing he did in a long time.

Shadowolf turned around and ran towards the setting sun, after the little crow.
Unknown "Shadowolf" Injured - 16 years, 7 months, 14 days ago