And I have walked this way before. Perhaps I perished an age ago in some long forgotten act of arrogance. But in my passing came clarity and prayer so deep and earnest that the Goddess took pity on me and granted me once more the bitter boon of life. But, though she gave me life again she would interfere no more. She wouldn't clear the dust from my aching lungs nor remove the stones from under my bruised feet. No once more the choices were mine. To walk once again the easy path of arrogance and pride and to die. Unloved, never remembered and never mourned. Or at last to take the harder road. Take that overgrown bramble filled path where at the end I would find my destiny. To finally find my way…

Home.

Grey awoke to those little aches and pinches that let you know you're alive. Sitting up he blinked in confusion several times, the fog of sleep gradually giving way to consciousness and leaving him wondering where he was and what had… "Oh dear Goddess!", he exclaimed as the memories came flooding back. Memories of a drunken night ending in blackness that should have been the end of him. He yanked his cloak up to reveal a fresh pink scar, still tender to the touch. Reaching around to his back he felt where the blade had run him through. The memory of those final moments caused him to turn aside and vomit from the stress and more than a little pain. Finally calming a bit he remembered lying on the floor as a man stood above him cleaning his sword of Grey's blood on the spell singers own cloak. Still confused he wondered how he could still be alive and why in the hells was he in the middle of a forest instead of on a filthy tavern floor, or six feet under the ground. Then he remembered the prayer.

Frankly he was shocked she'd answered him even as much as she loved him as he'd let his burgeoning power and over developed sense of self worth make him arrogant and cruel and he'd acted the loud fool to the wrong person at the wrong time. He'd let himself begin to believe the sycophants that surrounded him lately. Those that whispered in his ear that his magic was so strong none would dare challenge him and that any fool who did would be made short work of but in the end t'was him that was the fool. His "friends" were there only for the coin in his purse and the protection his reputation offered them. A reputation he'd earned to a certain extent but wine and the constant stroking of his young ego led him to believe in his abilities far beyond what he was truly capable of and, being constantly drunk, he was rarely in any shape to use his full strength in any case.
He took the time now to check himself more thoroughly. His grey cloak, breeches and boots; whose color leant him his name, were there though his pouch and short sword were missing as he expected. Closing his eyes in trepidation he was relieved to find his tiny silver flute still safe under his cloak. Everything else he could replace but without that his magic was almost non-existent. He assumed that She had protected it and he closed his eyes and thanked her. He didn't know what he'd do if it were to ever be lost. It was much more than a simple instrument and his only link to a much brighter past. Having taken inventory of all he had he sighed sadly. It'd been a long time, too long in fact, since he'd had to depend on his skills in the forest for food and warmth and to say he was out of practice was an understatement.

The rain began then and quickly turned from a sprinkle to a downpour. He didn't like it but it WAS a rain forest after all and he could expect plenty more where this came from. He moved from the small stream already beginning to swell and took shelter in a small hollow under a bluff. The ground sloped away leaving him with a small dry space to hole up in. Inside were some pieces of flint and a small amount of wood so he could at least get a small fire going. He curled up as near to the fire as he dared and reflected on what had brought him so low. He'd no one to blame but himself for his current state and without Her help he'd be… well, dead. Night was falling quickly and the rumbling in his belly was going to have to wait until morning.

He pulled his flute from under his cloak and began to play a mournful tune the sound nearly drowned out completely by the rain chattering on the leaves and the thunder rolling through the forest. Finally his cloak dried enough to let him lay down by the slowly dying fire and he fell into a fitful sleep. At once both glad and ashamed to be alive.

They had begun to venture from their Glade, spurred on by the ominous premonition Vhaela had experienced, though she hadn't shared it with her Guardian. As ever, he followed where she led, not needing to know the 'why' of their journey, just that she wanted to make it. Bracken padded beside Vhaela as a giant, russet furred wolf, choosing the keener senses and faster form for their foray into the place outside their home. So far, the forest hadn't offered any threat, even if it did not resonate with him as the Glade did. This place was home to simple trees and plants, all living beings, true, but none of them as attuned to he and Vhaela as the Glade was. They were barely days away from the place that had been home for lifetimes, and already the weredirewolf found himself missing the tranquillity and familiarity of his adopted home. Glancing to his side as if to reassure himself that his mate still walked beside him, Bracken banished those thoughts. As long as Vhaela was with him, and he with her, that was all that mattered. He had lived outside of the Glade before, and seen the world that lay outside of its safety. Vhaela, however, hadn't. She had never seen anything but the Glade, never lived anywhere but there. If she wanted to go out into the wider world and explore, who was he to tell her no?

So far, they had found nothing to be cause for concern. This didn't mean that Bracken was ready to let his guard down, however - it just made him all the more vigilant. Any manner of thing could be laying in wait, just hoping for a chance to attack the druid once she left the Glade. It was a sacred place, full of magic and power, and Bracken was under no illusions that people would treat his beloved with the respect and awe she was owed, not if it meant they could snatch a measure of her power for themselves. So he stalked beside her, ears flicking back and forth to track sounds, nose constantly scenting the air for any change. His one eye glared from his muzzled face, daring anything to come and try him. Rumbling, he turned towards a rustling in a nearby tangle of undergrowth, snorting when birds startled into panicked flight towards the tree-tops. He hated not being able to hear the Glade, and ask the plants and animals what they could see. He had grown lazy and complacent, obviously. This would need to be fixed.

They walked for a while longer, rain beginning to patter down through the thick canopy of leaves. Above them, thunder rumbled, causing Bracken to pin his ears back in irritation. It made it all the harder for him to track noises, but stubbornly he persisted. 'Harder' was not the same as 'impossible', so he would keep doing so, even as night fell. They would have to find shelter soon, so that they could rest and continue their travels in the morning. The wolf could keep going for days if need be, but he wouldn't push Vhaela that far for no reason. There was no rush, after all.
Bracken was content to search for a suitable place to rest, until a rank, bitter smell reached his nose. Lifting a paw, he stopped Vhaela from going forward, though he focused his attention towards the smell. No, smells. Woodsmoke, vomit, person.
There's someone nearby, he 'said' to his mate, wait here while I investigate.
He didn't think she'd listen to him, he mused with a fond exasperation, but it was worth a try.

Following the smell of fire, Bracken came upon a figure curled within a cloak, apparently asleep. The fire was dying, the embers of which glowing in the darkness. The smoke tickled his nose, and the wolf turned his head, snorting to get the smell out. The figure didn't seem like a threat, didn't seem to have much common sense if you asked him. They hadn't even set a watch or any alarms - if he wanted to, Bracken could easily kill him here and now. Catching motion out of the corner of his eye, Bracken wasn't surprised to see Vhaela had followed. Sighing, the wolf shook his head.
Should have known better, he remarked, though fondness was buried deep in his tone. He jerked his head toward the bundled figure.
Doesn't seem like much. Shall we move on?

Grey slept the sleep of the exhausted. Even as the stones and rough ground poked and prodded him into the occasional moment of consciousness. He rolled over and yawned. Trying to find a comfortable spot that would allow him to sleep once more. His eyes flicked open for a moment though sleep still covered him like a soft, wollen blanket and he drew his cloak around him and almost found sleep again. Finally though his exhausted mind made sense of what he'd seen and jerked open though his body lay completely still. It was a wolf, nay it was the wolf of wolves. It was at once both beautiful and terrifying. He didn't notice it's companion though and his slid down to the flute around his neck. Slowly. Carefully. He withdrew it and put it to his lips. Though the large beast seemed not interested in him, he wasn't sure if that just meant it found him to be easy prey. As the huge beast continued to look back at it's companion a… human? Yes, human or at least something that looked like one, Grey put flute to lips and began to softly play. It was soft at first, the sound obscured by the rain slapping the trees. But soon he released it and while it played on without him his voice joined in soft harmony to it's song. The pair sang of peace. Of a village long since destroyed by a "thing" that killed every living thing. Humans, plants and wolves as well. Nothing escaped the blackness save one lone elf and his flute. Slowly their song ended. Sad. Forlorn.Grey knew that often he and his tiny flute could enchant animals and humans at times but not always. And the beast before him didn't strike him as something that would be seduced. But he had to try. He knew he had no chance against this magnificent beast but desperately hoped that his song touched it and would convince it to let him live.