Sun Mote Copse Friendly neighborhood vulpix

You always get me writing SO MUCH.

Phox shook his head when she asked about the plateau. It seemed to him that he and Towhee had set things in motion, but he could have been wrong about that. Maybe Rannoch and Liffey had refused to stay there. Maybe they'd wanted something fresh so they could all be "equals." Meanwhile, Towhee and Phox were chopped liver. Remember, Phox, you're not mad about it. It doesn't even involve you.

He could have defended them, even a little, insisting that they were busy with the move, busy with Raven being pregnant, or busy with something else, but he didn't make an attempt. It was more satisfying to turn others against them. Specifically Quixote.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, and one that he had heard from many concerned wolves after they learned of what happened. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly, wishing that things had turned out differently. But there was no changing things, no saving Camilla, no making Fennec see the light of day. So instead, he said and signed, -Thank you.-

This spring, which was supposed to be the season of life, had traded that life for death. Phox had gained two lovely, wonderful children, but he had lost a sister and a mate just as swiftly. How is Eljay holding up? he asked, realizing that he had gone through much the same thing. Two children, a widower, and probably in the throws of grieving.