Bearclaw Valley it was all right with me

Sif was gallivanting along the creekside, tongue lolling goofily out of her face. The valley hadn't impressed her too much when she'd first arrived, but it had started to feel like home since she'd turned her back on her family by the sea. Wardruna and Poet were her family, now, and perhaps Isengrim would be, too.

For now, though, she still oftentimes took comfort in playing by herself. Bounding through the snow and kicking it in every direction was always good fun, even if it did leave her tired and sore at the end of the day.

She came to a stuttering halt when she was confronted by a ruddy stranger, eyes widening comically at having been caught in such a silly act. Fen had not been tolerant of her silliness by any measure of the word, and she was not sure if that was something that had been specific to him, or a prejudice that all wolves shared.