Bearclaw Valley a gentle gossamer wing

all welcome!! hoping to meet some packmates she hasnt yet 
❤

 Her head is abuzz between her daily rites at her altar and the still-lingering memory of the blood moon, of Phocion's sermon and her weeping. The storms keeps her from her daily routine for a few days, yet the interruption is not unwelcome. It gives her time to reassess. Is she not repeating history, falling into these patterns of rite without purpose, keeping her idle paws busy so she does not have to reflect on the sins she's not coping with? Clearly there is more for her to examine in herself, more than some well placed hyancinth will forgive. 

 So with the sky clear and the ground thick with wetly layed snow drift the ex-priestess makes her way into the heart of the valley, forcing herself away from her routines. There must be a way for her to carve out a life in the valley, something communual beyond existing as Wardruna's second wife. If only she had a clue how to just be a pack wolf.