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

wylla had a sharp tongue that continued, but the former general was satiated by how it flagged now. her sunflower gaze drank in the valley he had intended to claim alongside melkor, and the gargoyle breathed in the clear air with its hint of pine.
"diaspora has been through the death of a leader, rockfall, famine, and vinter. i have faith that ve vill continue to handle vhat comes our vay."
wylla was tired, the exertion of the climb and her own inward stresses exacting a toll from the she-wolf. he turned to her now, offering a brush of his heavy crown against her cheek.
"i vant you to lead alongside myself and melkor," the shadowpriest declared suddenly, eyes glimmering with some inscrutable lavender emotion. wylla had desired to be secondary to him, and this was the first step toward such a ranking.
another question burning at the back of his throat, but it was not the proper time to inquire after such things.