Nova Peak Drawing hearts in the byline, always taking up too much space or time

Spring restlessness was coming for her. Wylla could feel it in the marrow of her bones, and decided that she must depart the coastline to visit her children before she would be forced to hide away. Next time, she would bring Stag with her, but this time she chose to travel alone. She trusted the young Sandraudiga more than anyone, but he was a boy on the cusp of manhood. She didn't think he would touch her, but it wasn't a chance she wanted to take if it snuck up on her faster than expected.

Maintaining a lope carried her from the shore to the taiga in a day, and on the second day she navigated the Tangle to arrive at Nova Peak by noon. She slipped into the trees surrounding the mountain where the borders had always been fresh, only to find no wolf scent at all. She paced through the trees where she knew it should be, and felt the icy grip of despair beginning to close on her heart.

Perhaps their claim had merely shrunk? Wylla barged deeper into the forest, nose to the ground. Further and further up the slope she went, as far as where the trees gave way to snow-covered rock, and still there was no hint of their scents. Despair blurred into panic which quickly began to simmer in her chest, flaring the longer she searched into an inferno to consume her.

Wylla skidded to a stop on one of the highest ledges and roared her anger to the sky. Where are my children?! Down the mountain she went, huffing, desperate for a sign of them, with none to be found. Eventually she reached the plains again and turned one livid yellow eye to the east—the last place she had seen Mahler.

She twisted her lips into an ugly snarl and flew into a gallop.