Duskfire Glacier ptah spoke - Printable Version

Njal had disappeared, and Larus, and Tuwawi had soon followed. The family that had so bravely surrendered their ranks at the Creek and founded the pack upon the glacier had fallen into ruin, leaving behind Jokull, Valtyr, and Maera. Hatshepsut did wonder where they had gone, and knew Danica even now searched ceaselessly for the little boy, but the Egyptian was cold. Too long she had beheld death, destruction; she was inured to such things, and to the thought that the Sveijarn pair and their son had found their end elsewhere.

A hawk soared through the cold air of early dawn; her lazuli eyes watched the avian closely, a prayer to Horus brief and faint upon her lips. Whatever their fate, the Duskfire wolves would prevail; Malachi was at their helm, and she assumed he would appoint one of them — Danica being the logical choice — to rule alongside him.

For the present, Hatshepsut prostrated herself in the hawk's wheeling shadow and began her morning rite of prayer and humbling.

Arabella was doing her best, she had made an enormous effort to regain the strength the pack needed of her after the Alpha pair and their golden son's disappearance, and she was doing good. She had gained some of the weight she lost during her lonesome journey from Highmere, and she was now able to go through the day without the need to rest every five steps she took. Her face now looked more like what it was before, like the beautiful teen she was not so long ago.

But all of that didn't make it up for the emptiness Tuwawi left behind with her departure. Arabella didn't know the Alpha male, or the young pup he left after, but the crimson Mother, the one who saved her from starvation, had a special place in the girl's heart, and it ached. Maera too, the only pup she knew so far, and Jökull and Valtýr, they were still here, longing for their gone parents, but they were not alone, Bella would see to that herself.

The day arrived with a burst of colors, but it wasn't cheerful whatsoever. A heavy grief lingered in the air, and it was sticky. With her head low, Arabella walked down the slopes of the mountains, closer to where the puppies were. She wanted to make sure they were ok, and spend some time with them. Now that their parents were gone it was time for her to put her babysitter skills to work.

Despite the fact that she was a mother, Hatshepsut lacked the requisite instincts. While she felt that the children left behind must be protected, she was bore them no particular fondness, only idly wondered who would rear them now that the Sveijarn pair had disappeared. The scent of an approaching packmate struck her, and she turned sharply, in time to see a comely wolfess pass by.

She could not recall the other's name, but gave a soft chuff, wondering where it was the woman traveled so early in the day. Hatshepsut was quite used to having the morning to herself, and though she remained unaffected, her curiosity was feline in its intensity.