For all that Aivar had supposedly put his past behind him, inside of him was a gaping hole. Wind from the storm stirred the long guard hairs at his shoulders, and the stormcoat hung his head to stare into the black water of the lake. It was not the first time. His eyes were drawn to the scar on his face, and he reached out with a paw to touch his reflection. It rippled, and the image fell apart—as did his heart.

Lightning split the sky, lighting his world briefly—sharp, harsh contrasts. He lifted his muzzle to the sky, and as he lowered his head once more, he saw his sun-touched acquaintance padding along the lakeshore. Thunder rumbled through the sky, and Aivar could feel the ground quiver. The air itself felt electric, and was sharp with the scent of ozone.

He stood and trotted along the water's edge, head low with his awkward, lurching trot. He hopped every time his left hind leg should have hit the ground, and he slowed as he neared her.

“Hey,” Aivar greeted with a lopsided smile. “Mind if I join you?” He was still trying to figure these northern wolves out, but so far, he found he enjoyed Nutuyik's company.