Dragoncrest Cliffs Chasing the arrow

Wildfire maintained a low profile ever since her talk with Thuringwethil. When she stayed in the caves—which wasn't often, despite the cold—she hovered at the edge of the group and didn't talk much. If the commander came near of her own volition, Wildfire welcomed her with a hesitant tapping of her black tail, but otherwise she gave the Heda her space.

When Portia went into heat the same day as the ice storm, it was like a special brand of torture. Although the amorous pair withdrew to more private quarters, she couldn't escape the Skayona's scent, nor the knowledge that she and Dio had hidden away to work on Drageda's next generation. Wildfire felt hideously jealous and achingly sad. And she couldn't make a getaway, unless she wanted to risk freezing to death.

A few days after the storm passed, leaving the wilderness dangerously icy and slick, Wildfire couldn't take it any longer. She slipped and slid her way to the beach, a sobbing breath escaping her as soon as she broke free. She felt deeply bitter about the circumstances of her life right now and didn't know how to cope with any of it. But she didn't want to weep about it, like she usually did. She bit her lip so hard it bled, the thread of red freezing against her lip, but at least she didn't break down.

She sat there, glassy chestnut eyes staring out at the sea as the sensation slowly leeched out of her body. Her nose had long since gone numb to the cold, so once again Wildfire was oblivious to the alluring scent lingering in the frigid air: the Skayona's hormones having triggered the return of her heat.