Blacktail Deer Plateau the shadows go like ghosts across your road

Tonravik was far from the perfect specimen, mentally. Physically she held the perfect conformation of a warrior, muscled and large, strong and robust. She had inherited her mothers conversational aptitude, which her father also had in his genetics. Kilgharrah was far from verbal himself. Mostly she was reared in silence aside from Tartok's subordinates. Without them she might not have learned words, at all. So rearing her had truly been a pack effort.

His guess was one that was prompted Tonravik's head to lift upward again somewhat. "Spring approaches," she agrees evenly. For weeks she had been curbing her own heat, though whether this was nature or willpower who could be sure? Tonravik knew by Spring she ought to have found herself a partner. She followed his gaze before her own eyes returned to him again. Tonravik was not good at this, but felt comfortable in her silence. "Are there cubs," she asks at length, gesturing to the land.