Heron Lake Plateau The fire in my eyes is leaving

When dawn broke, Niamh stretched luxuriously, rolling over and into the warm, solid side of Colt, and buried her face into his fur for just a bit longer. Nights had become her favourite time of day- as she could return to the little copse of trees that protected their sleeping place and snuggle into his side. During the day, her step was light, and she moved as though carried on a sort of dream, knowing that at the end of the day, she could return to his side. 

Eventually, she would pull herself from her slumber, place a kiss on his muzzle and move out to perform a patrol, as she did almost every morning. As she walked away, she wasn't without some sort of hesitance; she wasn't entirely sure, just yet, what the details of their relationship were- or if it could even be called that. And though it was nice, whatever it was, the lack of defining boundaries gave her a bit of hesitation. But until those became a problem, she had no quarrels. 

The dew still hung on the long, green blades of grass along the borders as she roved, particularly interested in the Northern boundaries where other wolves could actually access their pack. No new or exciting scents presented themselves- so she simply reinforced the ones which had been left the day before or overnight, ensuring that the pack would have less to worry about if others were respectful of them.