Swiftcurrent Creek count the stars that are shining in your eye

Tuwawi's features were hard and rigid as she studied the wolf from a few lengths away — so focused on the way his pale eyes darted or how his ears swiveled. The muscle beneath his shoulders or the dark slate-colored hair along his back did not escape her attention, and the golden mask... it was a telling feature. But the most authentic sign was the way he faltered while taking a drink. She saw Njal in his clumsy, candid expression. Her Palestrike.


But she also saw her son. Her tiny boy she had lost too soon. The old ember choked out a giggle as her face shriveled and twisted. She could feel her chest tighten as a thin veil of wetness coated her argent gaze. 


It felt like a mirage. An oasis in the distant desert eternally out of reach. Against any better judgement, the elder threw caution to the wind. "Larus! Is it really you?" Tuwawi blubbered, feeling dry-throated and dizzy all at once. She took an unsteady step closer, "I thought the lynx had... and Caiaphas!" Jumbled sentences revealed a scattered mind, and suddenly the red woman felt her old age. The ache in her swollen joints, the cold against her thin coat, and the threat of dying alone without protecting a single one of her children.