Dragoncrest Cliffs in terms of tacos, she was doing fine

Furi spends the next several days trying to process what happened to Artaax. Half of the time she thinks about the dead body, about Arlo, and her related feelings, while the other half thinks about how it could have been her and Blixen. If the wolf had crossed the borders further north, he wouldn’t have run into Artaax. She’s been sparring and practicing with Eske most of the time, but does that mean she’s ready? The back and forth of different anxieties have done little for her and she spends most of her time fretting and not enough time working or sleeping or anything else.

In those few days, she spends most of her time alone. She talks to Eske about it a little but she doesn’t know where to go from there. The child in her shouts in the back of her mind to always stay in the territory, away from danger. Stay with mom and dad. The acid rises in her throat and she licks back the frustration. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, knowing that is no longer the change. She is a warrior. She can’t go back.

She satisfies the hunger from a nearby cache, turning her head to look off in the distance through the redwood trunks to the north. After a moment, her rumps hits the ground and she slings her back leg into her thick mane. She roughly scratches at the side of her neck until she feels the burn of her claws digging into tender flesh