"That one has troubled demons within him." Those soft spoken words roused the Immortal from his self imposed trance, the focus returning to his eyes, the slow rise and fall of his chest becoming more apparent. The flames from the fire became less intense, almost in unison, faint chants heard in the background.

"Was it that apparent?" The shaman chief slowly nodding his head in response, aged wrinkled hands firmly grasping the small wooden bowl that contained combined juices of various crushed berries. "Your forehead develops a crease in the center, whenever you think of him."

The bowl was accepted with a nod of thanks, the contents slowly consumed until emptied. Setting the bowl aside, Running Grey Wolf shifted his weight, rising from his kneeling position, before stretching out his arms and back. "I still feel Alexander can walk the path he was destined to."

"That he was destined to was to live his life as a mortal. White man's fate had other ideas." Grey Wolf could only smile at the shaman, for indeed his knowledge went far beyond his one hundred and three years. Actual years, not Immortal ones.

"You know that's not exactly politically correct in the 21 century." Said with the up most respect. "Neither are grown men and women running around the world looking to kill off the other in order to be the final one." Said with the dripping sarcasm that it was meant to be spoken with.

"Your former pupil is the prime example of why there will never be only one. Like with life, this cycle will renew itself. One there may be for a time, but not forever. Those that have endured such Immortality, achieved it at a terrible price."

Pausing in between changing into his street attire, a great sadness did appear inside Grey Wolf's eyes. "Your words as always contain an aura of truth to them. It is why I do not participate in such contests, unless my very existence is at stake. I do not believe it is my time to depart this material realm just yet. The Gods have seen to this for many years now. Alexander is .... Special."

"You do not need to justify your actions to me, Grey Wolf. You have always had my blessings. I hope this troubled youth can indeed be saved before what some of you treasure as a blessing, will become an curse eternal."

Kneeling back down to where the shaman chief still sat Indian style upon the soft earth, hands were grasped. "I pray it shall not come to that, or I will do what it is necessary." A fleeting glance given in the direction of a sheathed sword. Goodbyes were expressed to those as he departed, his horse had already been prepared, awaited him at the base of the camp. "He does not admit it Grey wolf, but he enjoys your visits, and your tales of the world of man beyond this one."

Settling onto the horse, Jere smiled. "Just as I have always enjoyed his company." With a subtle urging, the horse broke out into a short trot, until well clear of the campsite, then it was urged into a full gallop. The night skies were clear, a multitude of stars sparkling above, the lands were bathed in the light of the new moon ... His thoughts returning to the phone call he had received several days prior ...