Heron Lake Plateau I guess I keep a-gamblin'

His sweetness mystified Raleska, who had been raised by much harsher hands: where was the hidden motive, the obscured manipulation? If she was standing in front of Svalinn he might have trusted her to the ground, or issued some kind of battle-cry the moment their eyes met. Cinder had no such fire-power, and Raleska was simply flummoxed by the lack of clear confrontation in those soft eyes.

She was too disciplined by her family's ways to unravel her misgivings in one day: it would take Cinder much longer than that to tap her hardened shell and coax her out from its spiny back. For every nice wolf she had come across, she had come across twice as many cruel ones - Raleska still thought of the stern-faced wolves at that stony summit, that had turned her family away to starve.

Her gaze flickered from the kind boy, to the pond in the center of their home. Caiaphas had never forbidden them from entering its depths - likely because swimming was in their blood -- shifting upright, Raleska knew what she had to do.

"Race you to the water, then." She challenged, but didn't wait for an answer. Already the little sprite was hustling to the banks with a stupid-wide and smug smirk on her face.