Sawtooth Spire For thirty minutes bet we played that game

It must've rained overnight, thought Wylla as she splashed through a puddle that hadn't been there the day before. The air was thick with fog and heavy on the lungs. The grass was laden with dew. A typical spring morning that she drank deep breaths of as she set off for a morning jog around the northern perimeter, eager to do a patrol in Wintersbane's absence. Unlike Mahler, she wasn't worried about it yet. Men sometimes ranged far and wide in search of a place to put their goods, and she was positive that's where he'd gone.

She wondered how @Stag was faring now that his mother was mysteriously back in their midst. An uncomfortable thought, that, though the reversal of their roles and the end of the fertile season took the edge off Wylla's opinion of Takiyok's return. Where she might've been testy about it before, she was mostly glad for the peace it would bring Stag. Even Wylla, nearing the start of her fourth year of life, found comfort when her mother was around, whether or not she admitted it.

She also wondered how @Greyson was settling in. He'd shown promise as a hunter, but since then, she'd been too busy with the cubs to seek him out. Wylla lowered her head to brush the wet grass with her nose, trying to suss out the scent of either of the wolves on her mind.