The origin of Godthund.

Traya would lie down beside me, and if I fell asleep, nobody could so much as breathe without asking permission.

She always had my back. She was always watching over me.

Always. Always.

From just after she was born until her last breath.

Godthund comes from there.

From the void she left behind.

From a place you don't even want to look into. Not out of fear of falling. Out of fear of seeing. Out of fear of seeing yourself. Out of fear of knowing yourself.

When you need to know who you are and what you're doing here, and only the hum of silence answers back.

You can't find your place. You're nowhere. You don't know where to shelter when the storm comes.

And now, taught by time, I understand there was always a flame that wanted to guide me. That also wanted to warm me, and always offered me a shelter I couldn't see. The one I was looking for. The one I needed.

A gaze that never judged me. That gave me everything. Without conditions or questions.

No matter how dark my soul had been that day, she would meet me at the door when I came home at night — with what a person rarely gives without wanting something in return. What only an animal can give you. What only a dog can grant you. Their most precious gift. The most absolute, complete and unquestionable loyalty.

More than a decade after she left, the memory still chokes me. I need to tell her I didn't see her — that even though I knew she was there, I didn't see her.

I would give ten years of my life to spend one full day with her again.

Ten years is nothing.

"That's why I make collars. So you don't forget that life is a moment — and for the one by your side, even more so."