Sun Mote Copse Wind singing in the willows

It was a little over a week now, since Arcturus had arrived at Sun Mote Copse and Wraen hoped that the rest of the pack had got used to the dark-pelted guardian, who had left in voluntary exile his own home. Towhee's attitude, when they had met first, had concerned the Sovereign a little, but, since no actions had followed, which would require her interference, she dared to hope that things were fine at least on the surface. 

Wraen had given her friend space and time to think things through and that very soon she would have to ask him, what he had decided to do. It would not be long before Hydra and her subordinates would be out and looking for him. It was important to know, where things stood before any such confrontation. As much as she wished to offer a forever-home to Arthur, she knew she could not do it at expense of her fellow packmate safety. 

While thinking about these and other matters, she had arrived at the place, where the Blackthorn patriarch and matriarch had been burried. There she stopped, sat down and quietly commemorated the two wolves. Having never been close to Finley, she missed the steady wisdom and calm of Elwood very much. And just as we all do, when a dear granny or grandpa or any relative of ours die, she regretted not spending more time with both to learn the stories and secrets that they had now taken to their graves.