Woe to this world. To beleive that one human being can acheive something as simlpe as trusting in another. But even this cannot be so. He was my brother. My second in command. But he left his post for a wh*** in sheep's clothing whom I myself had once called amor. These thorns sting so much but as with any thorn they can and must be removed. Even if the most risky of surgeries must be performed, it must be done. I can no longer have these poisons pulsing so at home in my veins. The venom must be extracted. I have to crack this once comfortable pot and grow on my own toward the sunlight until I can be replanted. He was my brother, but he broke from our pack. Loyalty is everything to a wolf and unfortunately for him, my spirit is a wolf. A very angry one...