Sawtooth Spire It's only been about a couple of days

Right, Wylla drawled, having once lived in the very fortified territory of Ankyra Sound, followed by the very open territory of Swiftcurrent Creek. Both of them had managed just fine, and once again, she was tempted to point fingers as to why Diaspora's borders had been violated time and again. Definitely not at herself, though. While she hadn't done a lot of border duty in Diaspora, she wasn't going to shoulder part of the blame. It was obviously all the rest of the pack's fault for not fortifying the territory enough.

And this place seems safe to you? she asked, casting around them as if to say, uh, are you seeing this? Half these paths are just dead ends and have you been to the foothills? Good luck hunting anything there without biffing it. And it's just so tall, if you fall from anywhere you're toast. She was at least halfway convinced she was going to die some horrible death on Sawtooth, and it was truly only Mahler keeping her there despite that.

Mahler pulled away and Wylla unconsciously drifted toward his side, desperate for contact, but she mastered herself at the last minute and kept a respectable distance instead. Fine, she grumbled, following him to the towpath and relishing the warmth of his side finding hers as he moved to support her. I guess I'll reserve judgment til I see it, she said, smirking at him, but she still thought the place was trash. It would take something magnificent to change her mind about it.

Or time to get used to it; she wasn't exactly the type who embraced change, which maybe was half the problem.