Kveld ran through the snow-dusted forest in the guise of an enormous white furred wolf. The rippling of powerful muscles, the steady beating of paws against the ground, the chill wind whistling through the trees; all served to calm him, soothe him, but leave him with just enough need to focus on where he put his feet that he could avoid thinking.

It wasn't a perfect escape by any means, and the occasional thought managed to squirm its way past concentration of fleet-footed running. Like now.

He had spent too much time indoors of late, lounging about the hotel in his juvinile form, and not enough time running through the wilds and chasing shadows. Not enough time being free. He hadn't really noticed it until he'd tried to use his magic, only to have the simple binding drain him nearly to the point of blacking out. As it was, he had only barely been able to undo the spell before the kitsune had completely lost it.

The kitsune... now there was a problem with more tangles than Kveld had ever known could exist in one person. Seeking death by threatening the life of another, nursing a broken heart, and who knew what else. Certainly the binding had panicked him, and Kveld had an uneasy feeling of why. More than uneasy, angry.

He increased his speed, taking out raw animal anger on the relentless wind. The binding had been meant to restraing, but in the wrong hands it could be a terrible instrument. It was a limitation of freedom.. and that was what made Kveld so angry. The idea that someone had once bound the fox enough to make him react like that to a simple binding spoke of imprisonment, and the idea of anyone daring to imprison a wild thing, a kitsune!, went to the core of his soul.

Being one who had spent his life rescuing younglings from abusive families had made him more sensitive to emotional scarring than most. Azakeri was no child, but he still had a sort of childish innocence to him that needed to be protected.

Kveld was a protector. His entire soul was given to the protection of those who needed it, and Azakeri needed it. Never before had the Snow Wolf met someone in such pain as the kitsune, and it scorched him every time he was near the fox. He would do what he could to help the pretty kitsune heal, but he had the feeling it would take a very long time.

He had a long time. He had no idea how long his kind lived, but he knew it would be centuries, if not millennia, before he felt the ravages of age. Given his lifestyle, he would likely be dead by human means long before then.

So however long it took, he had the time. He didn't mind. In Azakeri, there was something worth saving, whatever it took. A rabbit leapt up in front of him, and he chased it for a while before turning back. It was a long run back to the hotel, and his coat was going to be coated in snow by then. He didn't feel the cold, but the wet was going to be annoying. So, he chased shadows through the forest, making his way in an aimless fashion back toward LLAnon, a warm fire, and a fox.

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