Morningside Cuesta down to a sunless sea

Wherever her family was, Isleña was not far behind. She would wander briefly to forage or entertain her senses with exploration, but she always wove her way back to the others. She was a packwolf if there ever was one, but if absolutely nothing else, the banshee was consistent. Isleña had already been on her way back to their rendezvous site when the call from Tashkent was loosed, and though she wasn’t far, the woman made haste.

Coming upon Tashkent and Kuyuk, Isleña gave a restless yip and cantered fluidly around the two, kicking up a dry autumnal dust. “This place bores me,” she slurred in their thick native tongue. It was not meant as a slight — most things bored Isleña, and she was only trying to make conversation. Without being particularly sneaky, the panther leapt towards the male and swatted him with a diminutive rusted paw. “Come, practice with me,” she purred, wondering if a spar might stir up some of this raw, yet stagnant, energy — she was quite unaware of any official business that her cousin wished to conduct.