The first realization that he’d come into a new phase of his life came when he hit not a bed of pine nettles, but a blanket of snow. He did not release the branch- it was held between jaws that began to chatter once he began to process his surroundings.

This place smelled different than Winsook- the air was thinner at this altitude, the snow had melted from Nova Peak already this year. He couldn’t have travelled, not sleep-walking, to another peak entirely, could he?

He turned his head at the sound of another wolf approaching at a gallop- Morwenna! His tail wagged and he held the stick aloft proudly (and half because he was programmed not to share a stick once he had created one) and uttered a happy growl as she crowded in close to him.

He remained slightly wall-eyed, protective of his stick, but was genuinely relieved to find that his earlier realizations could be declared false. He was on Nova Mountain, because Morwenna was here. Maybe some snow fell overnight.

::Ahh hahhhh,:: He agreed, hoisting the stick up once more. Then, he remembered- his neck was wounded, Dark Fang had ripped a strip from his jaw to his shoulder, he really shouldn’t risk something stupid like this or his artery could burst open and-

-a glance to his shoulder made him drop the stick. He tilted his head, thrust his shoulder forward, spun in a circle three times trying to see the wound.

It was gone.

”But,” He sputtered. ”Didn’t…How’d the hell,” He said, and he looked to Morwenna, tilting his jaw so she could check where the scabby tissue had been. ”It couldn’t have healed that fast, but I don’t see it, can you…?” He asked. Maybe he had healed quickly, maybe the wound had just shrunk to a line he could no longer see…But he couldn’t feel it, either.