Dragoncrest Cliffs like an old guitar worn out and left behind

As the wilderness thawed, Wildfire's heat cooled. Her cycle only lasted about five days, though she and the commander remained in isolation a few more before deciding it was safe to return to the main gathering place. Gone were the terrible mood swings of yore. The Bandrona who rejoined her pack mates was quiet and complacent, maybe even a little dreamy.

She slept well and woke well-rested on this late January morning. When Wildfire roused, she slowly stretched herself upright, yawning luxuriously. She bent forward to groom her belly—no changes yet, of course—and then leaned forward to nip at Thuringwethil's ear. The she-wolf then rose to her feet, gave herself a silent shake and meandered outdoors to relieve herself.

While squatting behind an outcropping on the beach, she spied a familiar figure facing the sea. Wildfire finished emptying her bladder, then stood and cantered over to the slightly larger she-wolf. "G'morning," she said, voice coming out thicker and sleepier than intended. The Bandrona paused, clearing her throat, then followed Tirgatao's gaze and said more clearly, "I have a good feeling." It was perhaps a strange and vague thing to say but it was entirely true.