Whitebark Stream the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

it is not her wayward daughter who calls back, but rather her ever-obedient son. smile creases her features despite the tiny pang of panic lodged fast in her chest, and she pauses a moment to reach over and place a kiss upon her son's forehead. "zima," she greets, pulling back a moment. "your sister's being silly. want to help me find her?" she needs something to make this lighthearted. 

the dark cloud that hung over the pack made her all the more fervently protective of her brood. it was hard to hide from them her fear, her doubts, hard to be the overbearing parent that as a child she'd sworn never to be. what would grayday do? became an oft-asked question as the pack had to contend with deaths and disappearances, while, somehow, her family remained whole and happy and untouched. with each passing day, her fear for the impending disaster that would change that grew. but for the son before her, she could only smile and offer a gentle wag of her tail.