Neverwinter Forest all my friends are heathens

Days had passed, and the Frostfur had not moved from the den she had chosen. The darkness that pervaded her senses was welcomed in these moments, as a tension migraine clung to her now. She hungered, but the thought of food nauseated her – the only thing she would emerge from the walls of her safety for was to quench her thirst from a small nearby stream – and she would so so as quickly as she could, before slinking back in.

She had fallen apart – and the only disappointment in herself that she could not on to was that in doing so, she had failed Cypress. He was so young – and he had lost his brother, and now his parents. She should have done better – should have held him when he needed it. Should have reassured him.

If anything, she should have stepped up to take on leadership when she had been the highest ranking wolf at the death of her father.

But Kaskara and Kjalarr (as she had come to learn his new name, now) had – and while she trusted them both inexplicably. there was now a growing sense that she had not fulfilled her own duty properly.

But for now, these thoughts were pushed aside as she finally emerged from her den. There was a dullness in her eyes – one that screamed of the agony she felt in her heart at their loss. But there was also a new fierceness in the petite wolf, and beginning to lope forward, the first thing the bi-toned Frostfur would do was clean herself in one of the deeper water bends of the forest. And then she would find food. And then she would find her little brother, and reassure him that of everything he might lose in life – she would never, ever leave him if it was within her power.