The Sunspire my fingers are the only bones I want here

The one good thing about the sun was that its movement was predictable -- she could do whatever the hell she wanted in the places that would feel like they'd been blasted by fire by this hour simply by going there much earlier or much later.  The mountain's ability to mimic a sundial also helped give everyone a break.

Most unsurprisingly, Treason was on patrol.  It'd be far more bizarre for her to not be doing so.  Sure, she took time out of her amazingly full schedule to go find food and stuff, but her choice of wasting time had pretty much boiled down to putting a lot of miles under her paws.  Since she didn't really think anyone else was probably skilled enough to prove a competent sparring partner (whether or not that was actually truth), it was just about the only thing she could think of to stay fit.  It also left her to live a relatively solitary existence within the pack, as there was plenty of land around the edge where even two patrolling might not cross paths the whole time.

Today Treason walked from the other direction, eventually spotting the shadow of her packmate up ahead.  At least from this direction, it was likely that she didn't need to make some sort of noise to startle her -- not that Treason was a particularly stealthy wolf to start with.  Thinking back to the hunt or maybe before, she said uncertainly, Cassiopeia, was it?  It wasn't like Treason was super social, nor up to date on every little random bit of news and name.  If it wasn't important to doing her duties?  In one ear, out the other, filed in the round bin.