Shadewood the night of long fangs

it was not of her own accord that she was in this ugly, cheerless hinterland. only her father could be possessed of such an idea.. and only her father commanded her. at first sandpiper had begged, cajoled, even thrown a dramatic near histrionic fit -- yet when she saw nothing would move the mountain that was skellige's iron resolve, she mulishly relented.

if she was going to have to go anywhere, she was going to do so miserably - and infect every wolf in her company so they were as miserable as she.

smokestep seemed particularly immune to his companion's irritable spirits, but perhaps it was because his resilient demeanor rivaled (or even bested) her own. she had stopped following him directly a way back, having paused a moment to drink in the bleakness of her surroundings. it wasn't water, so she wasn't fond of it -- and she loathed how the trees obscured her view. hate it, she thought dismissively before picking up a trot to rejoin her fierce brother.

his tracks led under a breadth of pine boughs and it was there she stopped, assessing her limber sibling with a quick glance. while she said nothing, her question was clear: where next?