Stavanger Bay hands getting cold

@Ford but AW

dalia busied herself in a number of ways now... with things she wasn't even necessarily fond of. truthfully, she didn't love border patrol. it was terrifying, actually. at any second a complete stranger could appear out of nowhere and attack her... or, maybe not even attack her. but dalia was so much more comfortable within their protected borders, with velen and ford and rannveig. everything else was just... scary. to put it simply. 

but it helped to patrol. every day she followed their scent markers was a day that dalia was standing up to her own demons. sure, she was far from healed, but she found a peace within her terror. and every day it felt a little less terrible. she jumped less-- marginally-- at breezes that shook the trees and at birds that flew from the bushes. and she got better and better at picking up scents before wolves appeared, which helped her to be less jumpy when wolves who weren't frightening appeared out of midair... because wolves tended to do that a lot. she was making progress. slowly, and in strange ways, but all the same. 

so, today, she patrolled. her ears were pricked and alert, her tail held straight out behind her as she traversed the southern border. glaring into the ashen graveyard-- with all the trees that laid there to rest, so laid her innocence. her lip curled gently at it, revealing a few sharp, white teeth, and then she looked forwards again, chin tilted up.