Sawtooth Spire You took my hand and we pretended like I was your guy

With Phaedra and Thade both tucked in for the evening and one of Sagtannet's wolves stationed next to the den mouth to ensure they stayed put, Wylla loped down into the yawning valley for a run. She still had an unfortunate amount of baby weight on her sides that she was desperate to shed, and it was just plain nice to get away from the kids for a while. As much as she enjoyed their company, having saggy tits and contending with their extraordinary energy levels, even in such a spacious den, was getting a bit old.

It occurred to her as she traced a creek westward that she hadn't spent any one-on-one time with @Mahler since the birth of the cubs. She hadn't spent one-on-one time with really any of the pack's adults, but it was him she missed the most, something she would be loathe to ever admit to his face. She needed to catch up with Wintersbane as well, sometime, but it was the salt-and-pepper Eisen she hoped to run into this evening. The weather was warm in spite of the setting sun and though she wasn't the most romantic of wolves, it seemed fitting.

Her paws carried her up onto a wide, flat shelf of stone overlooking the flatlands far below, and here she was afforded a spectacular view of the ocean in the far distance with the sun glinting low on its surface. She sat, breathing hard from her run, and stared across forests and valleys to the coast that was once her home.