Sawtooth Spire Lasiurus

He was in good health. She had wondered if he had faced any injuries from the coyotes but could not yet see any. As he moved to preen her, Tonravik clicked her jowls absently near him in a clear, concise no. Gone were the hormonal longings for touch and anything of the sort; she was back to her old self again, who preferred rough nudges and nips to anything else. While she would most certainly go for the throat of anyone that tried to do such a thing while she still weaned, in time she would even begin to initiate that again. For now, however, she was complacent and content to be lazy, stepping off of Kapvik entirely to look absently into the distance. 

If The Thing was not yet resolved, Tonravik did not know it yet. She had not been around to see them interact, and so could only assume all was well with the move. Her mate had no complaints, and so she assumed he went without challenge; that this was because their paths did not cross too frequently did not occur to her. There was too much work to be done at present, and Tonravik needed the pack to begin this work. To protect and serve. To become warriors at the ready for anything. Now that their future was alive and surviving, it was their jobs to ensure this remain the same. 

His nudge was met with a look, and when she articulated the question her tail waved and she looked to the horizon again, letting out a low, long whine rumble itself that proclaimed both contemplation and a decision made. Not yet...... no... soon. She had only just begun to trust her mate with them, and soon after, she would open the door to her subordinates. Her young babes were not yet ready to see the outside world... this, she knew. But in two short days? That feeling would fade to black, and the overwhelming need to introduce them would take over. As was custom.