Ankyra Sound redemption is a thing with wings

Nary a hint of wind stirred the coastline as Wylla picked her way up the narrow path to the woods above, tail swaying and eyes half-lidded from sleep. A thick fog curled between the towering sequoias, shrouding the fleet-footed Alpha as she slunk between them. Already, ice was beginning to gather on their ragged trunks. By midday the entire forest was sure to be cast in shades of white and grey rather than wooden red. Wylla paid it little attention; she was stuck somewhere in her own mind, daydreaming about being able to sleep in, when she didn't have rEtHpOnThIbIlItIeTh.

Like she did right that second, when a howl split the otherwise tranquil quiet of the woods. Heaving a heavy sigh and wishing she could just go back to bed instead of paying attention to outsiders, the little leader turned on her heels and struck for the borderlands. Things were simpler when she was a loner. She didn't have to answer the door for strangers, or pretend to give a crap about their lives, or try to act like she knew or cared what was going on when really, she just wanted things handed to her.

When she finally found the outsider, she gave her a quick once-over—much taller than her, golden eyes that were more yellow than hers, dark like her but splashed with richer hues along the lines of her belly—and then said, without any sort of regality whatsoever, "yeah, whadda you want?"