As tears streamed down her face, Lilly heard someone coming up behind her. Her heart started to race. She did not know who or what it could be, but given that she was surrounded by enemies, it could only be bad. Expecting the worst, Lilly turned to face whoever or whatever was coming up behind her.

To her surprise, it was the white wolf from earlier, his fur the same gleaming color of her own. She was surprised; his eyes seemed kind. They were the first kind eyes she had seen in several months.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said with a warm smile.

Lilly did not know what to make of this. Was he really trying to be friendly, to her? She could not believe it, and she did not know what to do, so she made herself smile back. But the visitor could tell that it was hollow. He looked into her eyes, which were now red from crying, and he could see the truth.

"You've been crying, haven't you?" he asked gently.

She nodded a little.

He looked thoughtful. "I suppose it can't have been easy for you," he said. "I heard what happened. I'm sorry you had to go through what you had to go through."

Lilly wiped her eyes with her tail. "Y-you're apologizing… to me?"

"Yeah," he said, "looks like I am."

"W-why?"

"Because, unlike these brutes that surround us, I know this war between our packs wasn't your fault. You're paying for the sins of others. I know it must have been hard to have your own family give you up – and it was because of our mutual fault, no doubt."

Lilly shook her head ever-so-slightly. "My family didn't give me up. I gave myself up. They didn't even know. I just knew that they would die if somebody didn't do something… and I was the only one who would."

Understanding filled her visitor's bright blue eyes, "Ah, how brave you are, little one! If only bravery counted for anything in this world."

Lilly smiled bashfully and looked down at the rocky cliff. Even the adversity of her circumstances could not rid her of that inward mixture of flattery and embarrassment that compliments always inspired.

"There, now why can't we see more of that beautiful smile?" he said as he watched her. "And eyes as luminous as those should not be made red by crying."

Lilly let out a meek giggle as more compliments came her way. The visitor sensed he was winning her over. He walked closer until he was standing right beside her.

"What's your name?" he asked as warmly as he could. He had never heard it, despite listening all day to stories of the Jasper war. This was mostly because no one else saw fit to use her proper name and just referred to her as "that white mongrel."

"Lilly," she answered quietly. "My name is Lilly."

"Ah, a beautiful flower!" he exclaimed. "So delicate and sweet! I should have known."

Lilly once again looked away. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "Wh-what's your name?"

"Cyril, don't you know," he responded.

"Oh," she said, still looking away.

"I've offended you," Cyril said.

"No, it's not that," she answered, trying to find the words. "It's just that…. I'm not really used to people being so nice to me. Especially not here."

Cyril nodded. "Of course. I should have known. But wolves like us have to stick together. We're different than these philistines. Our white fur shows on the outside what is true on the inside. Whereas they love power, we love beauty. And they hate us for it."

Lilly tilted her head back down at her paws. "At least it must be easier for you. At least this is your home."

Cyril shook his head. "This isn't my home. This isn't really home to any of us."

Lilly looked up at him in surprise. "Wh-what? Where's your real home?"

Cyril chuckled. "It's true. Our real home was the one we were forced from. This pack is large because it started out as several separate packs in California. Then those wretched cur dogs decided to take our homeland from us! And so we had to flee up here to this miserable place! Those of us who survived, that is."

Lilly studied her paws once again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You couldn't have," Cyril said. "None of the philistines ever bothered to explain it to you, did they? Oh, how they hate us!"

"But why do they have to hate us? If we all suffered, should we all be able to get along?" Lilly asked.

Cyril smiled wistfully. Lilly's eyes looked up, without her face moving upward, and she saw that he was now looking past her rather than at her.

"Ah, my poor flower," said he, "with an attitude like that, things are going to be so hard for you hereafter."

"But there's supposed to be peace now!" Lilly protested. "I gave myself up. Now there's supposed to be peace!"

Cyril turned his gaze back to Lilly. She almost jumped back from the wildness that was in his eyes now, the weird little smile his mouth was slowly curving into. He said, "There's no such thing as peace in this life, Lilly. There's just decadence. That's what it's all about, decadence. Beauty and death, they're inseparable. And now that we've brought back beauty from the north, death has to rise up from the south. More death is coming, you mark my words."

Lilly did not know what to make of this. Something inside of her shuttered. She felt the old instinct to go hide behind a crag or in a log. She did not like what Cyril was saying, she did not want to think that more death would come after everything she had been through, but there was more to it than that. What truly scared her was the thrill in his voice when he mentioned death. That was what sent shivers down her spine.

What did Cyril mean when he said, "More death is coming?"

Read on.