Firefly Glen dreaming about the things that we could be.

Liffey was angry. She felt as though she'd been angry for months. In truth, she wasn't quite sure why she was so mad, but that didn't seem to matter at all. She just kept being angry and as the days passed, that anger just kept right on making a beeline for her mother.

It wasn't too hard to do, blaming Finley for everything: the growing distance she felt between herself and her packmates. The jealousy she felt towards her adoptive siblings. The frustration she felt over how little attention anyone paid to her needs and her desire to learn and grow. All anyone wanted to do was show the puppies how to hunt or how to find their way back to the rendezvous site when they wandered too far. No one cared about nurturing her interest in the stars. No one cared about taking her out away from the Caldera to learn how to become a scout. No one cared to draw her back in when she was so clearly drifting away.

Her mother should be doing all of these things. Her mother used to care enough to do them, but now all that mattered to her were the puppies and being an alpha. Finley had changed, and Liffey was mad at her for it.

That's the story. She's sticking to it.

The young Blackthorn meandered sulkily along the edge of a small stream, her nostrils twitching as she ran her nose along the foliage that lined her path. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, unless a distraction from her own angry brain counted. No such luck so far.