She hadn't seen Machiavelli in some time, it seemed everyone was always on their way somewhere. Their paws carrying them forward even while they spoke, eyes wandering to distant horizons. Thoughts occupied by places they had not yet reached and problems that had not yet happened — it looked exhausting.

Lull, however; lay stretched beneath the shade of an old tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves created shifting patterns across her fur. A patch of sweet clover grew nearby, berries hung heavily from thorned branches down the slope and the river sang softly in the distance. This was a good place, a very good place. Letheia sighed happily, rolling onto her side exposing her belly to the warmth of the sun.

A faint smile tugged at her muzzle, what more could anyone possibly need?

Sooner or later someone would pass through, someone always did. A traveler. A hunter. A wanderer carrying too many worries in their chest and she could almost picture them already. And eventually, if fortune smiled upon her, she would witness her favorite moment, when their shoulders relaxed and their breathing eased. It was the best part, because she could not understand why everyone insisted on carrying their burdens so tightly when the world offered so many lovely places to set them down.

With this comforting thought, she laid her head back and watched the clouds roll overhead.

—
Varek

The river had drawn Varek in long before he ever saw the clearing.Its distant murmur had accompanied him for much of the morning, weaving through the trees like an old companion that neither
demanded conversation nor offered it. He had followed the sound without much thought, allowing his paws to carry him where they would. At his age, he had learned that not every path required a
destination. Some days were simply meant for walking. The scent reached him first. Clover. Wild berries. Sun warmed earth. It was a pleasant smell, uncommon enough to draw his attention but not
unusual enough to raise suspicion. Still, the old wolf found himself slowing as he approached the rise overlooking the riverbank. Habit more than caution. Years had taught him that anything capable
of capturing his attention was worth seeing, before he stepped into it.When he crested the hill, pale eyes settled upon the clearing below.At first, there was nothing remarkable about it. A broad tree
stretched its branches across a patch of soft grass. Berry bushes grew thick along the slope leading toward the river. Sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead, scattering shifting patterns of gold
and shadow across the ground.Then he noticed the wolf beneath the tree. Varek remained where he was. Not hidden. Not revealed. Simply still.His gaze lingered upon the stranger as he studied her
from a distance.

Age had made him patient. There was little to gain from rushing first impressions, and much to learn from silence. She appeared entirely at ease. Not merely resting. Not merely relaxing. At ease.The distinction caught his attention. Most wolves carried tension with them whether they realized it or not. It revealed itself in subtle ways...a twitching ear, wandering eyes, muscles that never fully softened even in sleep. Travelers worried about the roads ahead. Hunters worried about empty forests. Leaders worried about those who depended upon them. Everyone carried something. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere. Yet this wolf lay beneath the shade as though she had nowhere else she needed to be. As though the moment itself was enough. Varek found that strangely difficult to understand. Not impossible. Just unfamiliar. His scarred muzzle tightened thoughtfully as he watched her roll onto her side, exposing her belly to the warmth of the afternoon sun. The gesture carried an almost reckless level of comfort. Not foolishness. Not carelessness. Simply trust in the world around her. The old wolf could not remember the last time he had witnessed such a thing. His attention drifted briefly toward the landscape surrounding her. He could understand the appeal. The river was peaceful. The shade was cool. The scent of berries hung pleasantly upon the breeze. It was a good place.

A very good place. Yet Varek knew countless places just like it, most wolves passed them by. Including himself, the realization settled somewhere uncomfortable within him. How many clearings had he crossed without stopping? How many rivers had he followed without listening? How many quiet afternoons had been traded for destinations he could no longer remember?For the first time in a long while, curiosity rooted him where he stood.Not curiosity about danger.Not curiosity born of suspicion.Curiosity about her.About what kind of wolf could look upon a world filled with uncertainty and decide that, for one afternoon at least, none of it deserved her attention.Eventually, Varek descended into the clearing.His approach was unhurried, the measured pace of an older wolf whose size alone commanded attention long before he spoke. Scars crossed his face and shoulders like pale memories etched into dark fur, and though his presence carried undeniable weight, there was no threat in his posture. Only caution. Only respect.He chose a place beneath the same tree, though several lengths away from the stranger. Far enough to grant her space. Close enough to share the shade. As he lowered himself onto the grass, old aches stirred briefly through his joints before settling once more into familiar silence.For a time, he said nothing.The river spoke softly in the distance. Wind stirred the leaves overhead. Somewhere beyond the clearing, a bird called to another.The old wolf listened.Not because he had nowhere else to be.Because, for reasons he could not entirely explain, he suddenly found himself unwilling to leave. His gaze drifted toward the stranger once more, and though his expression remained composed, there was a quiet thoughtfulness behind his pale eyes. "You seem remarkably content. "His voice was deep and roughened by age and infrequent use, carrying easily beneath the branches without disturbing the peace of the clearing. The observation was not criticism. Nor was it admiration. It was simple honesty. After a brief pause, his gaze returned to the river beyond the trees. "I've spent most of my life watching wolves chase one thing or another. Food. Territory. Duty. Tomorrow." A faint breath escaped him. "Most of them look exhausted. "The corner of one ear flicked. "You don't."For a moment he fell silent again, studying the water through the gaps in the foliage. When he spoke next, there was something rare beneath the words...not warmth exactly, but genuine curiosity. "I find myself wondering how."