Sawtooth Spire That mangorita you were drinking

Luckily, Wylla was unobservant at the best of times, so when she lifted her head at the sound of Star's voice, the first thing she noticed wasn't the older wolf's conspicuous baby bump. It was the old, faded, puckered scar she wore on her shoulder. Wylla had never seen anything like it, so precisely shaped that it could only have been intentionally made. There was a story behind that, she was sure.

Hello, Star, she greeted, a wan smile stretching her lips and lifting the tired skin under her eyes. Although Star was another woman and Wylla historically didn't get along well with women, she was also a pack mate, one who had never done anything to rouse Wylla's oft unfair ire. As a result, what she got to see was the rare friendly side of Wylla, which precious few wolves were acquainted with. I wanted to thank you for coming out the other day, when we introduced the kids to the pack. You were the only one who seemed genuinely interested in meeting them. I really appreciate that.

Not that it was great to feel so bitter about the hesitant approaches of others, but she'd hoped that Quellcrist would've played with the cubs, or that Stag would've come close, or that Wintersbane would've introduced himself to them so they would know who the third leader was. Only Star had actually approached them. How've you been? Wylla wondered, noting that the woman looked healthy. Well fed, certainly. More than well, from the glowing look of her.

Hang on a second...