Sawtooth Spire I'm not the one to normally play the fool

Wylla's focus was singularly on finding a den up until the point that Ainhoa's scent wafted over her nose. She recalled that the woman was an aspiring midwife. While the highly private Eisen still had no intention of allowing Ainhoa anywhere near her when she gave birth, she was selfish enough to hope the other pregnant wolves in Sagtannet would, if only so Mahler would not be there to fawn over the cubs. She was already of the mind that hers deserved his attention more.

So she angled her course toward the crouched dove, quirking her lip slightly in approval. How's your midwifing going? It was a little bit of a joke, since Wylla was uneducated in the ways of the midwife. She truly didn't know a single thing about it and wrongly assumed they were only useful at the moment of birth. Her yellow eyes roved over Ainhoa for a moment before bouncing to the mountains, scouring for any little sign of a dark cave entrance or anything that might serve her purpose, only to return fruitlessly to the Ende.