The veil between the realm of the gods and the mortal lands upon which he tread was thinnest in the woods. As a creature of divinity, there was something calming about the place – the power that swathed it mixed with his own, and he felt at home.

True, it was not the godly land – it held not the majesty, nor could he so easily shift himself between the differing planes that stacked atop each other. But it was the closest he came, as he awaited his charges.

Morpheus lay beside a trickling stream bed, the minute twitches of his ears the only sign that he was still conscious. A few times throughout his dozing daydreams he had felt the tell-tale feather weight of a bird alighting upon his horns. They knew him to be an otherworldly creature, uninterested in them, and their sweet songs further lulled him into a honeyed stupor.

He had almost begun to consider truly drifting away – diving down into dreams that provided nourishment, both his and others’ that slumbered across the mortal world. But then the birds abruptly sprung from his horns, the hurried flutter of their wings betraying their distress.

There had been a disturbance.

Morpheus’ blue eyes slitted open as he felt it wash over him – the sense of another. But where his previous mortals had all boomed with quality… there was a strange absence to this one, a missing piece.

He raised his shaggy head and breathed out a slippery sigh. Already he began to think this one might be more troublesome – and it was not only because of her proximity to the passage that led into the god realms.

Morpheus pushed to his feet, giving a great heave of his shoulders to displace the refuse that had settled within his coat and headed in the direction of the life that called for him. Compared to his more languid travels in meeting his previous charges, his pace was a much more hurried affair. He had to keep her from wandering, had to stop her from slipping into the cavern. Because if she entered the god realm with no sense of what she was, then she would be lost to him.

Lost in a never-ending realm that stretched unto infinity, without consideration for those who wandered its lands.

So when he came upon her, it was with a swift suddenness – his horns deftly turning away the branches that tried to cling to them, his face laced with an unsuitable tension.

“Stop,” he said, before he had even begun to see her – the true size of her, compared to him. He was of an average height for a wolf, not overly large, and so she dwarfed him. The only height advantage he had came in the form of his spiraling horns, but the sheer size of her was enough to leave him momentarily flummoxed on how best to proceed.

After all, in that single glance, he saw the agitation that clung to her body like a secondary coat. Immediately he dipped his head, trying to convey his respect toward her and ward off any sudden attacks she might make.

“Please stop,” he begged more softly. “Calm yourself and let me help you.”

It was not that he could not defend himself if necessary – but the thought of yet another confrontation, especially one that might turn violent, lent him an edge of desperation that had been absent in his previous encounters with mortals.

She was so combative.

And he was not. Before the onslaught of her gaze, her words, her flashing fangs – before every part of her that bristled with animosity – he could only tip his ears back, not quite flattening them to the slope of his skull.

He did not truly believe her capable of harming him, of course. He was a god, and he knew something of his powers even if he had yet to place hers.

Like a black hole, he thought, eyeing her warily as she studied him. There was her rage, glimmering in her pelt like starlight scattered across the sky – and there in the center: nothing.

An absence.

But before he could ponder the emptiness of her power, her voice rang out like a whipcrack. Almost instinctively, he drew back, his muscles hardening in readiness beneath his coat. It was only something of his past that saved him, that age-old wisdom that had not deserted him even with the loss of his memories.

He was not truly frightened by her, and a strange feeling of irritation arose as she poked and prodded at him.

I could make you sleep, he wanted to say. I could force you to dream, and you would not like what I gave you.

But he kept his lips pressed tight together, only wrinkling his muzzle briefly before following her unsaid command, settling back on his haunches with his tail curling loosely around his paws. He did not turn his head, only watching her with that unwavering blue gaze as she circled him.

Still, it was difficult not to yip in sudden outrage when she abruptly shoved him, the surprise of it causing him to briefly stagger. He shook his head, nostrils flaring wide as he snorted, and retorted, “I thought you didn’t want my help?”

He had learned how to calm, how to socialize, how to be polite – in the span of a few days, scattered across a half-dozen encounters. And now, with this new wolf, he had learned something else: pettiness. A childish flaring of his temper.

If she was so eager to fight, to bully, then he would play on her level.

“Why shouldn’t I just leave you here, let you find out everything for yourself? If you can,” he finished.

Of course, he wouldn’t really leave her. But he was more than willing to act as condescending as she was being – godhood did not grant impartiality, nor did it offer a cleansing of mortal emotions. He was still imperfect.

But he was not unkind. If she did strike out on her own, he would follow as her unseen shadow until she chose to accept his guidance.