My next few attempts failed, I couldn't separate my thoughts from my instincts again but the moment of viewing myself as all of me, my parts viewing my other parts as me as them as a whole, brings me a brief comfort and calm. I attempt to rest my head against the trunk of the tree. Briefly knocking my antlers against it, reminding me of them. The elk has been so passive that I had forgotten their forgotten part of me.

  With a slow motion I move my hands over my antlers. They feel solid like my father’s do, but one part that still surprises me is the size of them and that they have eye guards. I’ve seen others who have their other half of an elk and their antlers are small, just grown but mine are large enough to be a few years of growth. The elk enjoys that thought of being fitter than others my age. Maybe I've been too focused on the negatives of being a hybrid, too focused on the bad, the exile, the moments of lost control and not on me.

  I laugh a joyful but also sour laugh. I haven’t ever heard anything like it before so foreign so unknown but also so me. I get up to go see the shaped and worn stones that are around the clearing that I had chosen to ignore while practicing getting to know me in my entirety. I pick up the coolest stone and I hold it in my hand. I recognize the type of stone. It's similar to what the mountain walls and cliffs are made of but it’s smoother, even covered in moss and worn holes. I can tell it was part of something. What did the elders call these stones? They were bricks. I think yes bricks. This was a Salkin building, the elders always say to stay away from them from the ruins of our past.

  I remember when our champ was discovered to be close to one of the more intact buildings of how we moved it within the day. The elders always said that they aren’t safe, not good for the soul to see the mistakes of our ancestors as anything but mistakes. The time where I tried to enter a destroyed tower of bricks like this I didn’t understand at the time why. I’m not sure i know now but these bricks are interesting, this is my first time being so close to them touching parts of these ruins.

  I return to sitting but not against a tree just sitting, holding the brick in my two hands. Beginning to clear off the moss and dirt. The smooth stone feels interesting against my hands bringing questions to my mind about the brick, was it always so smooth, were the holes and indents there after being made, what was it for, why make such things stones were hard to move around with tents, if it was for a fire pit why not just use the stones around why shape them this way. Maybe that’s what I can do with my five years of exile.

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  Setting down the now cleaned brick I begin digging around the other bricks and wherever I see anything other than grass sticking up in the clearing. I wonder what these bricks were used for and what they made up? Who made them, why were they here. I keep digging out every brick I can find. Only a few are as complete as the first brick I had found so many are shattered or shards of once complete bricks. Even the whole ones aren't completely similar to the others, some are bigger or smaller.

  With the final brick that I could find as I try to clean it like the others I find something I might recognize. There’s writing on it well. It might be hard to tell with the wear and the age and some of the letters I don't recognize but I keep cleaning. What could it be? I run my claws through the letters. Is it saying where, or maybe there. The other word I don't recognize but I keep trying. Running my claws through the curves and slashes and every symbol over and over again.

  What is it, what could this be, who could have left this writing, was it the maker of the bricks, the place that they used to be a part of what it says. Holding the brick closer to my face in an attempt to get some understanding. Over and over again I read it, eventually deciding on what the second word is. Here the third word is definitely here but what is the first and second? Then I find it and begin laughing. I keep the brick in one hand as I let my arms go slack while laughing.

  “Sorlins was here” I manage to say between laughs as I read the words aloud. Someone named Sorlins was here, how long ago I don't know but a while seeing the wear on the writing and the symbols I don't fully recognize. I remember doing similar things as a child when travelling with the tribe writing it on trees and logs with other children of the tribe. This person was just like me though I don't know how many winters this brick has survived before I found it.

  I place it down with the other complete bricks leaving the writing facing up. Looking at it one more time brings a smile to my face. That causes me to bring my hand up to my face and I touch the left side of my muzzle and I feel my smile. When was the last time I had smiled, before my awakening probably. It feels nice to smile, to laugh at what I have been missing by not stopping to look for the little things. Still with a smile on my face I move to the largest tree on the edge of the clearing.

  Bringing my claws up I begin tearing into the bark but unlike the last time I did so this has a purpose and plan behind it. A slash there, a curve after it so many different shapes that I'm unpracticed making with my claws. The words are made up of five lines each like they’re echoing across the tree's trunk. With one final pull of my claws across the bark, what I had been writing has been completed. There in rugged lines and curves is a statement for the whole world to see but it's mostly for me Akken was here. Placing one hand on the words for a final time I set up for the night going to bed with a smile on my face and a steady mind.