1290. Otis was awarded this dubious honor that evening, and by the morning he was many miles from his clan, from the village and from the blacksmith's boy. He was in search of Rome. He had no idea exactly what Rome was, and he had no idea how to find out. All he knew was that whatever it was, it was far in the south, and to find it he would have to climb over some tall ice covered stone monuments.
1291. Don't expect me to tell you about how upset the blacksmith's boy was, it goes without saying. Even though he knew for certain that Otis was a wolf, and also that the Vet was certain to cause problems, still he had hoped somehow a solution would present itself one way or another. He awoke in the morning with a gloomy foreboding, unable to imagine any possible solution to his problem.
1292. But, surprisingly Otis was no where to be found. Is their such as thing a gloomy relief? That is what he felt. As for Otis, it was many days before he was able to consider his feelings about his recent past. He had somehow prepared himself to give up being a wolf, and adopt the life-style of a dog, sine he had no choice. But now he was neither.
1293. As for the blacksmith's boy, he had many fond memories of Otis; those memories filled him with tender longing, mixed with sorrow. But his fondest recollection of the wolf had only to do with himself: it was the recollection of that single moment when he overcame his fear of the strange black dog. That moment transformed his character. He did not notice it, but from that time on nobody ever dared to think of picking a fight with him, he had become somehow dangerously wolf like.
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