Golden Glade and the bleak, cold breath of her still haunts me

His ears tipped sideways.  Yeah.  He understood, reaching out to tap just under her chin with the bridge of his nose.  Qui spoke softly, You know it's never been my first choice.  But yeah.  Maybe we could do so this year? Before it gets hard to do so again.  Pups seemed to roll right into winter which then rolled right into the spring again.  If the world had been kinder, perhaps it would be a happy sort of cycle, but this wasn't the first time moving had been discussed.  Before it had come with the shadow of somehow disrespecting Raven's sister, but now Quixote felt like it wasn't that way any longer.

He was still ignoring what was around him.  Qui was a little bit oblivious when it came to the world beyond Raven, especially at times like these.  As long as they weren't being actively hunted by something bigger and meaner, he'd tune it all out.  Anywhere in mind?  Whatever we pick can be ours.  Our choice, our new memories.  Not Towhee's. Not a hawk's.  Not a place that had memories of Screech, of Niamh freaking out, over panicking over one wolf or another disappearing.  Something fresh and new.  That would help, wouldn't it?