Tynan's eyes peered through the eyes of the wolf. His mind had been within the wolf's for the whole night, and it was by now far more atuned to the animal's senses and instincts. He could smell her standing there in the snow. She looked calm, but rage poured off her like a miasma. Rage, and something somewhat alien, like the single penny whistle in an orchestra of strings.

Far back in the forest, Tynan lay sleeping heavily in the low cielinged den of a pack of wolves, who came and went as if he were merely one of them, some even curling up beside him for warmth. A small, somewhat pudgy hand touched his forehead, pushing back the dark locks that curled carelessly. "I am not mistaken." said a voice seriously. "It is there."

"I know." came a silent whisper and Tynan stirred in his apparent slumber.

Tynan's wolf blinked, looking at the staff and seeming quite unconcerned. "Where are your dead?" he asked her, the words dropping into her head like raindrops on the water. "Time's running out, I'll help you with the rites."