The Sunspire and nothing breaks like a heart

The horizon spun the brilliant colors of gold and pink of dusk, and even as the ivory sylph paused to take in what should have been a breathtaking sight, it brought nothing more than further misery as another day passed and her packman remained missing. Thorn hadn’t been seen in days—his trail left cold, and with his presence gone, Diaspora felt cold as well.

An ear splayed back as a howl sounded in the distance—unfamiliar to her, and in that moment, unwelcome. Her eyes strayed from the endless sky, sweeping over the crags and grounds of the Sunspire. These mountains had once felt infinite with opportunity—potential. Now, they simply felt empty, and the trophy she had thought Diaspora held tarnished.

Somehow, it had ended up like all of the other homes she had tried to settle to.

The thought alone caused the ache in her throat to magnify as she attempted to steer her emotions. Finally, as the moments passed and the sun continued to sink, signaling that her comrade would not be found this day, the she-wolf tilted her own muzzle back, allowing her own song to echo across the mountains—calling for him. For one of the wolves she had considered a solid presence in her life.

Where are you, Thorn?