Sleepy Fox Hollow Where I thought I knew it all before I knew what love was

There was no pack in Ankyra Sound and no pack at Swiftcurrent Creek, leaving Wylla afloat without a moor. She wasn't sure whether to feel aimless or relieved as she chose a direction—south—and wandered.

What would she have done if Grimnismal still stood? If Swiftcurrent Creek prevailed? Truth be told, Wylla wasn't sure what she'd been looking for when she went to the coast or to the river. It wasn't like she had any desire to return to either of those places. She wouldn't deny that it would've been good to see Lycaon again, or Constantine, or any number of wolves she'd once known and left behind.

She slipped through the mountains through passes and along towpaths, no destination in mind—what now, indeed—only to stop abruptly before she could descend into a sprawling meadow. The hair on her back riffled with uncertainty, and not only because she could smell wolves here.

They were not strange wolves.

Son of a—

@Mahler ofc