Dawnlark Plains don't call [m]e grimgram

Sunspot had been ranging further and further from the territory, lately. Although this was partly because her brother had asked her to keep an eye out for someplace to overwinter, it was mostly because of Khoe. For reasons she could not name, Sunspot just didn't like the woman, and it irked her to no end to see Grayday dote on her so wholly. Of course, she knew the tiny shewolves caused her brother no small amount of grief with her moods, it was clear that he cared for her anyway - and deeply.

Most days, she could stand it pretty well. She was a patient girl, and she didn't begrudge her long-lost brother the family he'd cobbled together. Most days, she could even convince herself that she found it rather sweet. But sometimes she had to get out - urged by the same (though, in her, latent) gene that'd torn Grayday away from their natal pack. As she was older and steadier than Day had been at the time, Sunspot always returned to the Morningsiders before long, but on days like this, she found herself revelling in the feeling of being alone.

At least, until she heard the sound of a song. Tall, elegant ears quirked toward the cheerful, masculine voice, and quite suddenly, Sunspot realized that she didn't want to be alone at all. She trotted until she caught sight of the other wolf, and only then did she pause to think about her mood, her actions. She'd been through enough heats to know she wasn't in season, but she was still slightly suspicious of her own behavior.

Maybe it's just been a little too long, she thought wistfully, remembering lazy summers past, spent in the company of passing rovers and visiting friends.

Not sure what she wanted, now, Sunspot slunk closer to the other, bit by bit, staying in the cover of grasses and shrubs as much as she could, but not doing her best job at hiding herself from the male. After all, there was a part of her that desired discovery.