Stone Circle I will be re-instituting Prima Noctae.

There were about a billion new faces in Easthollow, or so it seemed to the youngest of the brood. Clary could count to ten, but not much beyond that, and the pack had somehow multiplied to a number she couldn’t tally. Worse yet, she had faces for next to none of them, scents for only a few.

So she set to work. Today her nose struck after one in particular, known only as the mysterious provider. Mama wore his scent sometimes, and this marked him a friend - or at least, one who would be, once she found the elusive man.

“Hello?” She called out, tired of looking quietly. His scent rang strong here, and she peered around through the endless trees, hoping for a movement to lend her aid.