Emberwood the shadows whisper nothing

There was a lot on her mind, as always. Before it had been the usual nerves: that she'd never see her brother again, although she tried her best to focus on the more optimistic chance that he was alive and happy somewhere. The struggle of gathering friendly faces and building something out of nothing, of keeping the peace (which had been the easy part really) and keeping them fed (much, much harder with the famine closing in around them).

Yet somehow a pack had formed. The strangers had become like a family unit and moved from the soggy marshland which Ibis had loved so dearly and now they lived in the woods, although for her the woods were not quite enough for her. They reminded her of the willows and subsequently of her mothers, and then she had to focus on the positives: that they were alright somewhere, living safe while winter blustered its way across the region.

Friendly faces came and went. Some she hadn't seen in weeks, but she did not let herself dwell on their absence for long. She couldn't let herself—lest there be sadness, loss, and all that to bog her down and make work that much harder. There was too much for Ibis to do alone; she did not know how to delegate well enough yet, and even with the celebration of the pack's formation still keeping her buzzed, she didn't lessen her hold on the important tasks.

So it was that Ibis roamed the woods. She hunted when she had the energy (and after being sick for the past week, that took some concentration) or tried to restock what herbs she could find. Most were frozen or rotting, blackened messes. Much of the forest was layered with snow now and the naked branches of the trees held sheets of ice and snow precariously overhead. It was a lot.

Everything was starting to feel like a lot. Especially the recent conversation with Bhediya. What did Ibis expect of herself and of her followers? How did she feel about having followers, even? And what about spring—there might be children to care for, and that excited Ibis a lot, but she was concerned too. Should they be her children? The only thing to break her from her routine and her many thoughts was a familiar voice; it startled her actually, that call, almost sultry. Kukulkan?

The girl turned around and headed towards the fringe of the territory where the trees thinned out, and before she could reach that far she found him. He looked healthy. Rugged, as always, and Ibis closed the distance with a little bark, coming to where the boy was waiting for her and pressing against him, nipping his cheek and doing all the typical wolfish greetings one might suspect—actions she'd anticipated performing upon her brother when they were gleefully reunited, but this would do nicely too. You're home! She finally called out, her tail a haze of movement.