The latest of his charges was perhaps easiest to find. Not that locating the others had been particularly troublesome – but it was the red of her coat that stood out, the way her violet eyes reflected back the light cast by the crystals that lit up the forest.

Compared to her gloomy settings, she was a flaming beacon.

She didn’t step as a fire-coated wolf should have, though. She stepped slowly, meekly, eyes cast about her as if she had wandered from her mother.

Of course, upon first sighting her, Morpheus could well believe she had been ripped from her parents’ pack. That one so young should be selected for their divinity – there was something uneasy that rippled across Morpheus’ consciousness. A shard of what might have been a memory – but as he tried to grasp it, it crumbled to sand.

And then he was left with confronting her, stepping out from between a pair of shrubs that crawled atop each other, greedy for any sunlight they might receive. His white coat, like her red, was easily spotted in the darkened forest. But even if he had been black as pitch, he would have made an impression – the horns atop his head seemed to glow, ghostly blue spiraling up into darkened violet.

“Hello,” he said as he drew close enough, dipping his head in a respectful bow. His stance was loose and relaxed, tail hanging freely behind him. He did not truly fear mortals, though he disliked their more aggressive natures. But she did not seem of that type, considering how she crept through the forest, more like a meek mouse than a proud wolf.

But, then, she was young. It was expected.

“I am Morpheus, the God of Dreams, and I have come to guide you, young one.”

He had learned through experience it was best to announce his intentions as quickly as possible. The more troublesome of his wards had a tendency to leave before he could even explain the truth of the lands they were trapped in.

Hopefully, this child would be different.