Callyope was just as he remembered: effervescent and beautiful. The dark carob of her kind eyes glittered among a downy pelt of gingered-gilded snow. Playful, but warm, words sent him back to the time of her betrothal. Ah – but the memories were becoming threadbare in the fabric of his mind!

Ipiktok’s jaw went slack, stunned. For a moment, the raven-wolf was forgotten as his spirit dipped away into its past.

Callyope had vanished. Had she been sent here? Did Solharr still search? Had Callyope’s memories faded too?

Ipiktok welcomed her embrace.

“Callyope…” he said against the wrap of his aunt’s fur, tone filled with both wonder and confusion.

He pulled away.

“I do not know,” Ipiktok admitted with pinched brows. A flick of his eyes alluded to the desire to ask Callyope more…

Ah, but…

He turned to the hunting wolf, known now as Yanan.

“This man greets you,” he replied. “I am known as Ipiktok.”

You stay? she asked.

“You are making a village here?” Ipiktok replied and glanced at them, both.