Firestone Hot Springs These nights never seem to go to plan

Rolling over onto her back, Alf buried her snout in the grass beside her head. Maybe she'd just fall asleep here; the woman sincerely felt too lazy and sad to move. Why couldn't she have just succeeded in all her previous ventures rather than constantly losing those closest to her? What puppet master was pulling the strings and fucking up her life?

Alf groaned and moved to curl up on her side. She'd get up eventually. Probably. Maybe.

A familiar voice questioning "Alf?" in a dumbfounded manner caught the tawny woman's attention. Dark ears suddenly stood at attention; Leon?

The loneliness was getting to her; Alfhildr Saga was officially hallucinating.

Nevertheless, Alf scrambled to find her footing as quickly as possible. Off in the distance was a familiar, large male. A once stranger she'd sobbed on. A piece of shit she kept running into across vast distances. A friend.

"Leon!"

Bounding toward the younger wolf with reckless abandon, Alf's tail was wagging like there was no tomorrow. She was ecstatic, and at the pace she'd set herself, Alfhildr was completely capable of bowling Leon over once she reached him.