Sawtooth Spire the art of war is of vital

gracious could feel her heart beat at peace, knowing that andraste's love for melkor was returned fully. although she was gone, love was something that hardly ever left an animal's heart -- it was like a faint memory, tickling at the heart strings and leading wolves to trip over their own paws. "i am glad you gave her happiness, though, her smile held warmth to it." Reminiscing of the past was not always a good thing, sometimes it clouded judgement and thoughts of the future. Yet, gracious could not help herself. remembering let her move on from her grief.

"allies," she started off, "i hope we can change the word to family some day. one pack, one family, one goal." Cohesiveness was important to gracious, it didn't mean culling those different necessarily but rather letting the group become well-mixed and even within itself.

"i don't think the courtfall members have given you enough credit, forgive us," she said, ears fell back against her skull for a little, "you have given us somewhere new to live, with new members to learn about and appreciate. you saved us from disbanding. thank you." Merging was not easy for several reasons, there were so many hairs that could've been misplaced and problems that could have occurred. yet the seamless grouping of the two has given off nothing but kind interactions so far.