It seemed like years since he had started to run. The rapid contractions and releases of his muscles began to slow after a good long while, and finally, he stopped. He didn't know where he was, who he was, or when he'd return to - to that other place. His hackles rose as he thought of the past, of his other life. He sat on his rump, abruptly, not exhausted, but tired of running. The trees were unfamiliar, and he could no longer smell Sam's piss on the tree trunks. New territory, then. His ears flicked as they caught the whispers of a brook somewhere close by. Aimlessly wandering towards it, he looked into the water, only half-interested in drinking. Something in his eyes was strange, a pain only half-remembered fleshing out, becoming fuller. A whimper of distress ran through him - all that running, and still he was only Jacob Black.