Cedar Sweep Ring the bells that still can ring

Niamh pondered what Raven and Quixote might think once they found out about a new group of wolves settling in the hinterlands. It was summer, presently, so there was lots to eat- but by winter she knew that their resources would dwindle, and she couldn’t have that- not when her own pack’s survival could be jeopardized. And even though it wa likely too early to plan for it, Niamh intended to have children- and like hell she was going to starve while pregnant.

A male showed up, appearing from the shadows quietly, his eyes questioning her with a tough sort of sincerity. He looked the sort who could defend himself, but Niamh wasn’t intimidated. She remembered the way Hydra had held herself with a posture which proclaimed her regality, and borrowed it for herself, watching the speckled male approach with a calm but firm gaze and pricked ears. He questioned her, but in response her eyes were drawn to the pale female who showed up only seconds later, but her interest returned to the male. The small white female obviously deferred to him, so he was the one she planned to speak to.

”Niamh, of the Redhawks.” She said. ”And you?”