Lone Star Mountain Who called me by my name and ran

Warbone's tone was deep and comforting. Despite a natural skittishness around strangers, Saena had no qualms with his approach, and when he took a place to the left, she turned her head to regard him, but had no qualms with his near-intimate nearness, either. Perhaps it was being on the precipice of her life, unsure of where to go and what to do and whether living was truly better than dying. Perhaps it was because she'd been alone for so long and yearned for company that didn't know of her past mistakes. More likely than not, it was the thrum of wild blood in her veins, the awakening of an inner animal that hid beneath her conscious self, but begged to be let out now that she felt like she was at the bottom.

But she was at the top, she recalled, and the wild blood sang louder than any amount of depression, right along with the howl of the wind in her ears. There were still things to do. There was still something to live for. Warbone claimed that the wild's song was loudest when you were ready for it, and maybe that was a sign that she was ready for something, too. His question caught her unawares and her brows drew down, hooding her bright eyes a moment and casting a sorrowful pall over her expression.

"Everything," she answered at length. "My home was taken from me. My pack was taken from me. My children were taken from me. I'm afraid I have nothing left that I once lived for, so maybe it's the wild looking to reclaim my bitter, broken soul." Or take me to my grave, she thought darkly. Or take me somewhere better than this, she silently hoped. Her home in Silver Creek remained open to her, but the longer Saena was away, the less she relished the idea of returning to it. It would never be hers again, much as she wished otherwise, and it wasn't Phoenix Maplewood. It was no longer of her making. She could share leadership, but she'd never been good at sharing, and the pack's loyalty would be divided between two unlike leaders. Nor could she feel justified in attempting to oust its current leader from her position.

She was a wayward spirit, lost and alone, come to seek her daughters, and unsure of what to do should she fail or even should she succeed. She was utterly heedless of Warbone for a moment, her gaze unfocused on the horizon, and then she tilted her snout to gaze questioningly at him. What's your story? she seemed to silently wonder, unaware of how similarly he felt.