Sun Mote Copse The flesh is weak

The thick snow and frozen ground had been the final nail on the coffin, convincing Ragna not to dig nor seek out a proper den. She had grown comfortable in the small hollow of a thick forsythia bush, whose branches were so tightly woven they caught most of the snow, making a solid roof over her head. Space was tight and shared with twittering birds that remained just out of reach, but it was comfortable enough for the Shieldmaiden.

The new male sparked a similar but less potent protectiveness as Flaris had. He had proven himself to Eshamun, and that was enough for Ragna, though she felt the need to meet him herself. So in the cold of the morning she sought him out, following scent and sign until she came upon the corpse and a den under new management. Hail, katimir she greeted. He was a fierce beast. You must be a warrior of some skill.