It was the familiar warmth and softness, Angelina's movements came to a halt.
The chaotic thoughts became clear, many memories that she buried deep within herself and did not wish to recall surfaced.
The tribe huddled together for warmth in the cold winter, wrapped in thick, warm fur. Her mother gently caressed her head, the Snowfield Wolves were wary of everything outside; nobody knew when hunters' guns would go off, when companions beside them would fall or leave.
Only when someone very close stroked her head would she let go of all her defenses, immersed in moments of warmth and beauty. In her memories, apart from her mother, there seemed to be only one other person who did this, yet she couldn't recall that person's appearance.
The girl's hand gently smoothed her tangled hair, soft as if trying to soothe all her emotional wounds, taking her to a harbor of eternal peace where pain and troubles didn't exist.
