Moonspear The truth of the matter

Thistle had noticed the days got darker sooner and colder. And she had been right, the mountain was cold, though truthfully not as cold as by the sea. The sea itself had been cold when the winds would whip across it. IT was a welcome difference and one she was quickly growing accustomed too. Thistle had no designs on naturalism, but she knew enough to know what was going on. IT was a bit like healing.

Thistle did not wish to go hunting or search for any game. She was not a hunter, she was too small for big game, and even small game sometimes caused her to have issues. Thistle heard the soft chuff and she turned her gaze to the large black wolf that had taken up a mantle she had no longer wanted, but had been duty bound to keep.

You are Amekaze?