Dragoncrest Cliffs well every lord i pray doesn’t sound the same,

Like Aure, sleep had not found Isleña easily. In a very similar train of thought, the banshee mused that she likely hadn’t experience a full night of sleep in weeks — maybe months. But, unfortunately, that was how it went when one lost their family and everyone they had ever loved. First it was sleep that left her awake at night, then it was her security that left her shaking during the day, and then it was every happy thought and memory that forsook her and would not reappear no matter how much she tried— and do trust, Isleña was trying.

Isleña ever-churning mind, brimming with worries and uncertainties, had calmed slightly at the sudden appearance of her the dar-furred lover. It was a strange twist of events that she might turn up in the same pack as he, but these types of incidences just seemed to happen with Isleña. It made her so good at subterfuge where most Luks were only skilled fighters. Though Isleña too was not bad in a scrap, these random chance encounters always made her life more interesting than she really deserved.

The woman saw Aure around the lake, and didn’t question why she was out and about at so early in the morning. Really, Isleña did not want to engage the white, verbose woman at all — she was much better at sulking on her own, because she seemed to be misunderstood and misinterpreted at every turn. Still, the roan wolfess felt that she owed Aure a debt of gratitude, because had it not been for her, Isleña might be as good as dead. With a grumble deep in the pit of her throat, Isleña stalked within Aure’s earshot.

“Tha-ank you,” she called out bluntly, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.