Frogspawn Swamp The lives we've reclaimed.

For the littermates, it’d been more customary for them to tackle one another- but Niamh’d restrained herself on the basis that tackling a ghost would’ve only hurt her and possibly her children. Ambrose moved toward her, but halted- and not a sparkle of recognition lit in his beautiful eyes. Niamh’s gaze hardened for a moment, and she knew before he spoke that he didn’t recognize her. 

She did a double take- looking him over and thrusting her muzzle into the wind to catch his scent. Though he smelled of Rusalka, where she knew Caiaphas lived, he smelled like the ocean but also just like Ambrose. There was no mistaking it; this was her brother, and the scars told her enough. He’d been attacked by a cougar, as Quixote had told her- but he’d survived. 

He spoke and his words flew over her head. He didn’t know her. Her cheeks flushed with heat as anger coursed through her with one swift pulse. Quixote had forbidden her from searching for Ambrose- and had she gone against his wishes, she might’ve found him and nursed him back to health. She muttered something quiet but mildly hostile about her former alpha’s command for a moment before she began to stride boldly toward him.

”I can do whatever I want, and you should know that, Ambrose,” She said, and tilted her muzzle up, almost proudly. She gazed at him evenly, as her anger faded into desperate hope. ”It’s me, Niamh, your sister.” She said, before adding, almost tearfully. ”I thought that cougar killed you. Quixote told me it must have.”