Little Goat Mountain bewusstsein

She watched the falter in his step with a faint smirk, but with it came a hot knife of uncertainty. Anything resembling jealousy, even imagined, confirmed to Wylla that Mahler had meant what he said, and she wasn't sure exactly how to handle that. As with everything else unpleasant in life, she supposed she would attempt to put it from her mind, as impossible as that was.

He revealed some of the pack's history next and, eager for the reprieve from her mind, Wylla tilted her ears to listen ... and then veritably scoffed. Why would anyone want so much land to defend? she asked, swinging her gaze wide at the mountains looming above them. Would be a pain in the ass to maintain all of it. Sure, she supposed it was an admirable notion in its own way, claiming an entire mountain range, but having been raised in a humble and small home herself, she could not see the appeal of more land to defend.

She moved to attend the task at hand, peeking into a different cave than the one Mahler was checking and whisking her tail when she found it unoccupied and uninteresting. Facing the conflict before her was difficult, but this—doing a duty that was assigned her—was simple. What are we looking for, exactly? Threats, or treasures?