Home is where you make it --I managed to find my way home. To my home, to the lands of ice and snow on the back of the mountain peaks. The pack was gone. We scattered to the winds -- nothing remains anymore. Perhaps that's always as it should have been. We knew what we had wouldn't last forever and made the best of things.
Our leader was always the solitary type, wasn't she?
I wish them luck and good fortune wherever they are now. Only one I sometimes speak with. Our leader contacted me in order to speak with the one I only sort of keep contact with. I wonder if they speak more often than she and I? I have no room to be jealous.
Right.
Home.
Home was as desolate as we left it. Left? No, I remember now. Our leaving was a matter of pride. The undead were converging on it in greater and greater numbers. I remember now. I... I remember.
By the moon I remember.
I remember when the Undead first approached us. They wanted to move in nearby. Our territory was in a harsh place. The Alpha at the time determined that having neighbors would increase trade and increase our quality of life, but that wasn't the case was it? I remember being sent away to Amityville when tensions rose.
I remember being encouraged to stay.
I remember being told to not come back.
I remember coming back.
I remember being overrun.
I remember us few that remained gathering one more time and saying our farewells.
Do they know? Do they care?
I don't know. I don't have a way to reach them -- we all cut ties long ago, and the one I sometimes speak with feels so, so far away.
Either way I went home. I took care of them. Home is nothing more than a wasteland of twisted Insanity. I've reclaimed it. It's mine.
Mine.I have no regrets for the Fear I've spilled with my own hands.
- Red