"Saska...chew...han?" Destiny mumbles to herself as she presses the tattered red cloth to her nose and inhales. "Sass-cat-chew-han...Suss-cat-chew-wan..."

She sighs heavily and stops, casting her gaze up to the bright blue sky far above her. A brisk wind blows past, instantly causing her hands to tighten around her jacket and the torn piece of Diaval's shirt. She's close. His scent is strongest here, but even then, it's weak.

Destiny gives the cloth another deep sniff, trying to cement the smell into her nose and brain before she continues on. The highway at her left drags on and on over the flat expanse of land, only occasionally showing the barest hint of lift in the terrain at all. She has to admit that it's strange to be somewhere so flat and without any type of water that's visible, having lived in a place like New York for her entire life.

What confuses her further is why, of all the places Diaval could've gone, it's Canada—and apparently one of the most boring provinces in Canada to boot, according to a family she passed at a tourist stop where she had paused to use the restroom, or washroom, as they call it here.

Another sharp wind distracts her and she catches a particularly strong whiff of Diaval's presence. Her eyes widen as she breaks into a jog, turning off the highway onto a dirt road leading eastward. She keeps going, the wind blowing harder against her face and making her eyes water as she runs faster and faster.

Her ribs start to ache. Her head starts to pound. Her throat gets raw and her lungs start to feel as if they're about to burst. She keeps going, her nose aimed at the ground as she follows the trail.

She's forced to stop as she reaches a river, one that's hardly dangerous but wide enough to make her want to search for an alternate way across. Her stomach drops when she realizes that not only are the freezing waters blocking her, but she's also lost the scent. He must've crossed this creek at some point and continued on when he reached the other side.

She narrows her eyes as her jaw clenches. She secures her backpack over both shoulders and ties the tails of the adjustable straps together at her waist before flipping her hood up over her unruly curls. She kneels only to yank off her sneakers and tie the shoelaces together, tucking her socks inside before hooking the connected shoes over her neck. She makes sure that her uchigatana is strapped tightly to her waist, grips the red cloth tightly in her hand, and steps into the water.

Immediately, she sinks up to her knees. She stiffens, her skin erupting with goosebumps, and she holds back an audible bark—or cry—of surprise. She takes a shaky step forward, her bare feet squishing in the cold, muddy riverbed and making her cringe.

Another step. The water rises up her thighs, inching towards her pelvis as the current pushes against her. She doesn't slow down. The denim of her jeans cling tightly to her legs, making her feel as if large, clammy hands are grabbing at her. She goes further, the water going over her waist and causing her to flinch. The current rushes around her still and every time she goes to move her feet, it's harder.

She brings her left leg forward and tries to take another large step, but her foot catches on a large rock and she slips. For a split second, she's nearly hovering as her eyes go wide and she watches the horizon before her disappear as she plunges beneath the water.

It's even colder once she's been submerged, every nerve in her body screaming out in shock at the ice plunging against her at all directions. Destiny doesn't know where to look or which way is up or anything, only that she's moving with the current, tumbling, being dragged down by the weight of her soaking belongings.

She kicks her legs desperately, unable to force her eyes open against the murky depths. She flails her arms, her tail wagging as if to act as a rudder, but it does little to help her. She's still underwater, she still can't breathe, and everything is starting to get hazy.

She's exhausted, yes, but she knows that if she doesn't do something, her journey will end before it's really begun. She musters everything inside her and transforms, her human form disappearing within that of a hulking wolf.

She bursts onto the surface and collapses in a soaking, smelly heap of animal. As quick as she transformed, she returns to her usual state and lays against the grass, panting for air, every breath sore and her muscles aching. She reaches for her weapon and hastily removes her belt, setting the sword at her side so that she can lie down more comfortably.

She faintly remembers her backpack, lifting her head just enough to see over her shoulder and confirm that her pack is still with her, as are her sneakers—albeit they're as wet as she is. The wolf mutant's head slumps back to the earth, her fatigue gaining greater ground now that she's sleep-deprived, hungry, and cold.

The cloth, she remembers with a start. She clenches her hands but finds no sign of the torn piece of shirt that held the last remnants of Diaval's scent. She grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut, her arms dragging up to her face as she grips the grass, frustrated tears swelling against her aching eyelids.

That's it? She's gone halfway across the entire continent and she's lost her only lead. So close, only to fall short in the end. She can't even recall what the smell was, her senses clogged with fishy river water and muck. Was it cinnamon or laundry detergent? Incense and sweet smoke? No, Leonardo is the one who smells like that.

Her ears perk as the rumbling sound of a motor cuts off near her, but she's too tired to move at any great speed. The only thing she can bring herself to do is drag her sopping hood back over her head and pray that whoever is nearby doesn't notice her.

Footsteps approach, the scuffling of shoes against grass and earth getting louder. They stop after a fragment of forever.

"Hey...you okay down there?"

The voice is soft, gentle, masculine, and holds the faint twang of an accent that Destiny has come to notice amongst the natives in this country, or at least the ones she's passed. It's warm and inviting. The person speaks like a parent would to a small child.

Destiny's eyes peel open as she cautiously lifts her head enough to see the newcomer's shoes. He wears work boots, caked with mud and obviously well worn. She drags her eyes higher to see that he's wearing a pair of faded overalls and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

"Are you lost, little lady?" he asks.

She flattens against the ground instinctively. "...I...I don't know."

"You don't know?" he repeats. There's a laugh in his tone. "I think most folks know when they're lost."

She offers no response. There's a brief pause before a calloused, tanned hand appears in her line of sight, causing her to jump. Her sodden tail bristles.

"Let me help you up at least," he says.

She stares at his hand for a couple beats before giving in. She reaches out and takes it, allowing him to heave her up to her feet, and only then does she get a glimpse of his face.

He looks like he's in his mid-forties to her. His square jaw is framed by a thin, blond beard that closely matches the hair covering his head, and his eyes—eyes that resemble Leonardo's in colour—are nestled beneath bushy eyebrows. He wears a baseball cap with a green logo on it, one that displays a curving white "S" and some green stripes. Destiny can guess that it might be a sports team if anything.

The man blinks a few times upon seeing her face, his expression fading so that he loses the wrinkles that show when he smiles. His attention wavers between her appearance and her belongings, as if he's unsure what's stranger. Destiny instantly ducks her head and tugs the hood closer to her hair, a shudder rolling through her.

There's a pause. "Glad to see you can still stand, that water can really do a number on someone," he says. His voice is slightly on edge, but at least he's still trying to be friendly. "Now, uh...you mind telling me where you're heading? You don't look like you're from around here."

"I was looking for someone," she says, an irritable edge to her voice. Her tail tucks closer to her legs as she bends down and grabs her uchigatana.

Another laugh. "Darlin', there ain't a lot of anything around here. I doubt you'll find this person in the middle of a field."

"He was around here, last time I checked," she utters, tying the belt back around her waist. At this point, she's happy for a distraction.

Again, he's quiet. Destiny, unable to handle the awkwardness bubbling inside her, lifts her head just enough to see his face. He catches sight of her glaring green eyes and his own dart to the side. He lets out a long whistle and scratches the back of his neck.

"Look, maybe I can help. Not many people come around here, much less..." He eyes her, noting the tail with a rather wary look. "...girls like you. Nearest neighbour to here is a couple kilometres west."

Destiny decides to humour him. "Have you seen any young men? Maybe tall guys with white hair?"

The man's dark eyes widen. "As a matter of fact, yeah. I've got a guy living up near my place. Came here running from who knows what."

"What? Really?"

"Yup. Quiet guy, got a scratch over one of his eyes, sorta like you but..." He clears his throat. "Well, less severe I suppose. Kinda weird though, he's got a British accent but he said he came from the States—"

"Diaval?"

The man nods again. "Yeah, exactly!"

Destiny moves closer to him, nearly tripping over her numb feet. "Can you take me to him?"

The man smiles. "Sure, can't really leave you out here, eh? You're gonna get hypothermia if you don't get dry." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "I've got my tractor. Hop on up and we'll head over there."

Although still cautious, Destiny's curiosity at his tractor is enough to get her moving. Gathering her wet belongings, she trails after him up to a large green machine with a yellow deer logo on the side. He climbs up onto the seat and pats the spot beside him.

She climbs up, but not without a couple groans of pain. The man glances sideways at her as she slumps into the seat, one hand pressing against her ribs.

"You okay there?" he asks.

"Fine," she returns, looking out at the fields before her.

He stares at her for a second longer before sighing and giving up. He starts the tractor and they head off, the engine roaring as they go bumping across the terrain.

"By the way, my name's Oscar," the man calls over the noise. They hit a bump and they jostle in place. "Feel free to call me whatever nickname you want though." Destiny doesn't give him an answer, nearly curling into herself in a futile attempt to get warmer. Oscar's face lifts with a hesitant smile. "And, uh, I hope you don't mind me asking, but you're not exactly...normal, are you?"

"What makes you think that?" she responds, hardly masking the lethal sarcasm.

"Oh, maybe the tail, the eyes, the pointed teeth," he lists, "and the face that looks like you got too close to an angry bear." She glares at him, causing a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, just saying..." He clears his throat as Destiny looks away. The tractor jolts again. "I've gotta ask, how does a teenager get out in the middle of Saskatchewan like you have?"

"I walked," she says. "I've got feet. I use them."

Oscar lets out whistle. "Boy, that's crazy," he says. "Can't imagine you walked all the way from...uh...where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't."

Oscar's face stays frozen in an awkward half-grin. "Er...right." He shifts on the seat. "Can I at least get your name? If you're gonna be talking to my farmhand, I think I deserve that at least."

The girl shuts her eyes, but exhales and gives in. "My name's Destiny."

"Got a last name?"

"Hamato."

"Odd, doesn't sound too common."

"It's Japanese."

Oscar eyes her again with confusion the only emotion written across his features. Destiny would be willing to bet that he's trying to figure out how she could possibly be Asian in any way. She's not, of course, but she's willing to let him stew in it for a while.

"That explains the sword," he jokes, but it falls on deaf wolf ears.

They drive on in silence as Destiny's thoughts drift back to Diaval. Soon, she'll be getting answers and he can release her. The visions plaguing her at night and the headaches will stop and maybe she can finally get some sleep. The thought alone warms her up just a little.

"Alright, here's where he's staying," Oscar says.

Destiny jolts out of her daydream to see that Oscar is pointing at a ragtag house-ish structure sitting near a small grove of trees. The house itself looks to have two floors, judging by the windows on both the ground level and higher up on the wall. It looks comfortable, perfect for one or two people to live in.

Destiny climbs off the tractor, making sure her belongings are still present. Oscar tips his baseball cap at her, flashing a smile.

"'I'll be driving back up to my own place just a little ways from here. Diaval knows where to find me," he says.

With that, the talkative and oddly kind Canadian chugs off on his tractor. Destiny walks towards the house, her bare feet smacking against the ground. She reaches the door and smacks her knee against it as a way of knocking, since her hands are full. She steps back and waits.

There's shuffling from behind the door and the knob jiggles before opening.

"Oscar, d'you need—" Diaval's low voice says. He stops short when he sees Destiny, his eyes widening slightly.

He looks about the same as Destiny remembers: black cloak, red shirt, messy white hair pulled into a ponytail, dark circles beneath oddly pink eyes, one tooth poking out from his lips. The familiarity, however, doesn't make Destiny happy to see him.

She curls her lip. "I need answers, buddy, and you've got them," she growls.

He blinks. "How'd you..."

"Karai told me you went off to Canada," she continues. She shakes her head rapidly until her hood falls off, freeing her brunette curls. "She gave me a piece of your shirt, said I could use it to track you. Here I am!" She fakes a smile, hiding it away a second after she shows it.

Diaval's eyes lower to her jacket. "You're all wet."

"Yeah, I fell in a river, but that's not important."

"Is that blood?"

He points at her torso. Destiny follows his direction to her ribs, where sure enough, there's a darker stain appearing through the material of her clothes in one spot. She grimaces and mutters a curse word.

Diaval takes that as an answer and steps aside, gesturing inwards. "You can come in."

Destiny glares up at him. A wind blows, making her shiver, and she gives a small huff as she tromps into the house. Diaval shuts the door behind her, turning around to face her as she dumps her various items onto the nearest chair.

The inside of the home is expected of something so small, yet it's surprisingly cosy. It's all one big room with a few walls creating the illusion of having more. Almost directly in front of the door on the far wall is a fireplace, where a small couch and a loose chair or two are bunched around it. To the right of the fireplace, there's a wall that blocks off a space for a kitchen that's barely big enough for one person. Nearest to the kitchen is a small dining table with a single chair pushed against it. To the left of the fireplace is the only other door in the whole place, where there's a sign reading "Little Boy's Room" that looks like it was bought straight out of a cheesy antique shop.

Destiny's eyes trail to a set of stairs that leads to a second floor, where she can guess there must be a bed. She has to admit, it's nice for a tiny house built out on a farmer's field.

"Getcha anything?" Diaval asks. "Tea?"

Destiny rakes her claws through her hair, her narrowed eyes dragging over to him and away from the decor. "Only if it comes with a Q and A session."

He puckers his lips. "Er...Q and A?"

"Questions and answers."

"Oh...yeah." He nods. "Tea, Q, and A."

She almost laughs, but hides any look of amusement as she takes a spot on the couch nearest to the fireplace. Diaval wanders off to the kitchen, unaware of the wolf girl's glare focused on the back of his neck.