Pale, rosy fingers were creeping stealthily over the horizon, seeping through the heavily-laden branches of the towering trees like spiders. Dawn came slowly to the Black Forest. It was a damp morning, the fresh scent of rain mingling pleasantly with the musky-sweet scent of decay. Forests are always full of death. Always, you see only the life: trees, animals, insects. Never the decay that lies beneath. Vidar, for once, was becoming very well acquainted with the various detritus and insects that were found in the loam. He had burrowed beneath the loose, upper layer of disintegrating leaves and rich, black soil to seek shelter from the light rain that had begun to fall sometime in the darkest hours of the night. Or was it the morning? Time had faded into the liminal space the exists only in solitude. Without other lives to mark his own against, Vidar was adrift in a sea of wanderings, of exploration. Not only of the lands, like Morpheus had asked. Hardly of the lands at all, if he was being completely honest. No, he was exploring himself. There had been a seed within him, slumbering in the dark depths of his soul. The scarification of Berry's death had freed the seed. Morpheus had watered it, with his simple love and care to a distressed wolf. But this land, this land was the sunshine. It called to him, spoke to him. Obeyed him. When he called for a plant, it grew. When he healed the damaged, it was saved. He marveled at it. Rejoiced in it. Wondered at the sapling it had become and the mighty tree it would mature in to. And yet. If he could have given it up. Returned to his home. To Berry and their pups. Oh, Gods. It did not even require thought. That was not an option, was never an option. Life can move only forwards into death into life again. So it goes for all things in time. Berry and the pups were dead before their time, all because of him. There was no doubt of that in his heart.

Vidar sighed and twitched. Leaves began to fall around him as if he was the very embodiment of autumn. Dirt clung more stubbornly, joining the coating of grime he had accumulated over the past several. . . weeks? months? year? He couldn't remember. Didn't want to remember. Only the gnawing in his gut and the encroaching light of dawn forced him to acknowledge the passing of time. His gold eyes were sad as he watched the light scuttle into the empty places of the forest. He wished the dawn came slower here. Under the light of day, the crystals faded. Still beautiful, but not as magical as they were after dark. There was death in the forest, this always true, but there is also always beauty. Vidar thought there was more in this forest than most. Perhaps that is why he had tarried here, delaying his quest too long. Almost absentmindedly, the wolf thought of a berry bush. Blueberries, hanging sweet and heavy on a spindly bush surrounded by small, dark leaves. Obediently a leaf pushed its way out of the disturbed loam beside him, reaching into the light with unnatural speed. Soon berries were hanging from its branches, so ripe they burst with juice. Yes, thought Vidar, it is no longer about if I will become a god, but when. Certainty grew in him every day.

Daintily, he reached out with gentle lips and began plucking berries from the bush. They burst in his mouth, less satisfying than blood, but sweeter. He could not live forever like this - already his ribs were showing, coat mated and dull even where it wasn't dirty. He was retreating. Fleeing from everything that hurt and piked, prodded and wounded. Just as he had when he flung himself off that cliff. Vidar snorted and shook violently, sending out plumes of dust and dirt. Today he would move on. Leave this place and continue his quest. It would bring pain, he was sure of it. All life did. But as his power grew, he began to recognize the necessity of death. Did he not kill for every meal? Did a rabbit mourn and try to die with his every meal? Probably not. Rabbits were rather simple-minded, but still. Besides, Morpheus had asked him to do this. Morpheus, who cared if he lived or died. Surely he would set Vidar's paws on a path of betterment, not pointless pain. "Today." Even as he spoke the word, he felt his spirit crumble. Go out in the world? Adventure? He knew, deep down, that he would enjoy it. So he did not deserve it. Did not deserve to feel joy while Berry and his pups lay dead in another world. Vidar slumped. Always he would betray himself. "Perhaps tomorrow."