Pondering his conversation with Akon, Atasatch walks somberly towards a small, circular grove of trees within the treeline a ways away from the farm. Atasatch, being a druid, surveyed the area for ample light and natural growth. The grove he had discovered was shrouded in a an ivy curtain that hid the barn and all the other signs of the town of Jastrey from his veiw. Atasatch removed his long coat and the black head band which hide his ears. Clad in nothing but a black shirt and boots, and pants, Atasatch had sat in the middle of the grove, cross-legged and bowed his head and closed his eyes. In his mind visions and thoughts of his past, his present and his future.
He winced when he thought of Gorepaw and that black, forbodding darkness which resided within him. He lost his breath when the visions of the Red Meadow passed through his mind the sights, smells, sensations. Every memory he had flashed by in seconds. His muscles loosened in saddness when the visions of his present came by. The visions of his friend, cursed by her race and dying of a rare sickness, and Atasatch unable to help her due to his lack of skill. Then Anger and frustration at his lack of skill and condemning himself and his friends to near certain damnnation.
With these last thoughs Atasatch looked up to the sky and listened to the birds, the wolves, the crickets. All the life around him. He could feel it, pulsating like a heart beat. It all had a rhythm he followed it. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. But he could feel himself losing touch with it all. He could feel the power of the beast setting itself within his heart. But he didnt lose hope, because he knew that in time he could control it.
With all of this meditation, this, mental preparation Atasatch finally felt that he was ready.