Sea Lion Shores mommy's alright, daddy's alright, they just seem a little weird

sif is not the same as she once was; neither is hamartia. she looks healthy and grown. despite herself, the woman feels a pang of longing for having missed her ex sister-wife's development. perhaps she should have followed her from bearclaw valley all those months ago as she'd secretly desired, but held back for fear of suffocating the girl. how different could things have been? would she still wear her old name on her tongue, all blatant sacrilege and undeserving arrogance? sif's stricken look neatly coincides with hamartia's thoughts, and for a moment she thinks she must have spoken aloud, eyes widening imperceptibly. 

but she hasn't. instead it is some other thing, a smell she carries that sif does not like. a bad, bad wolf. her brows furrow, uncertain. "who is this bad wolf?" hamartia asks, voice low and gentle, but curious, too. there is, after all, a narrow list of options that sif could be referring too; she's only been in the company of one wolf as of late, however limitedly. but she will not out him by name, not yet, not until she hears the brushed umber girl speak. after all, hamartia herself could easily be called a bad, bad wolf.