The Sunspire I miss the taste of a sweet life

She supposed, after giving it some thought, it would have been easy to misunderstand her intentions. Ptarmigan rarely told others outright that she was a lone wolf, and her reasons for it were as gossamer, thin and weightless. Perhaps the nearest thing she had to a real explanation was that she didn't feel she fit anywhere, having made valiant attempts before and having failed at them all. The closest she had come to normalcy was when she let herself fall to temptation and birthed two sons... But that illusion of a family life had shattered when she realized she would be killed for her treason, and so she had fled like a coward.

Here she stood now, just as much a coward as she had been that day, though in different ways. She, like many of her species, had a strong aversion to allowing harm to come to her. Conflict avoidance was branded in their blood as a species, for it allowed the stability of a pack and the success of a hunting party. Despite her constant trouble seeking on the borders of other packs, she never stuck around when things got heated. Even if she was a pack member, it was unlikely she would throw herself into a pack's conflict without a good reason to do it.

She preened her ears forward when Red suddenly spoke. “So you do have a voice,” she said, awed that the other could exist in silence without feeling alienated. Then again, Magpie must have had the same philosophy, for Ptarmigan clearly remembered being told the yearling didn't speak to those who weren't worth it. “No, not yet, friend. I have more miles to cover. But soon I will seek one. Maybe then, it will be yours I seek.”