Nova Peak wasserfarbe

On the day that her father's pained howl rose with his return to Nova Peak, Ciri had turned to her mother for explanation. She'd been able to detect that things weren't right with his tone, which was enough to spark concern, but it was the sudden change in Nyx' energy that she felt most of all. 

She had asked to see him repeatedly in the days that followed, a request that the lioness had cruelly refused and Ciri, frustrated with this denial, would frown and sulk. She hated that he was hurt out there, without her there to kiss his ouchies away like he did for her. "The pack will take care of your Papa," came her mother's firm but gentle assurance, "and I will take care of you."

Too young to understand the severity of the situation her father had found himself in but old enough to know that she wanted to be close to him. On the fifth day of no word of her sire's condition, Ciri deliberately disobeyed Nyx' instruction and stepped beyond the boundaries she'd marked for her. The little blackbird, eager to locate her most beloved parent, roamed the foothills with no idea on where she might find him.

She did find someone else, however, and paused to gawk in surprise at the vaguely familiar form of Wylla who guarded the hollow that unknowingly housed the very wolf she sought. "Hi?" Ciri offered in a soft, uncertain greeting to accompany the friendly twitch of her tail.