Cyrus watched the blind wolf as she formed into a silver swirl, her fur covering her eyes most likely in an attempt to shield her from the light of the world outside. He wondered just how much she could really see, but decided against asking anything further of it. Instead he kept his attention on her voice, letting it settle the nerves that quelled within his golden form. In a way, I understand your plight. I do not know where I am going either. At least not yet.

He let the truth of those words weigh him down for a moment, bringing him back to a reality that he didn't want to face. Where do you come from? Are you of these lands? Maybe I can help you get to somewhere safer. This land can be...unforgiving. Something that Cyrus had to learn over time, and wished that he never had to encountered to begin with. Once again he found himself missing his old life, hearing his mother's voice. Now she was gone forever, her face becoming nothing more then a barely visible memory.