Nova Peak tränenfleck

Two failed hunts and one hardly successful one had Wylla in a disagreeable mood as she descended through the pines. From her jaws hung a mere pika. Not enough food to portion out, but the injured Eisen needed it more than anyone else in the pack, so she suppressed her desire to swallow it whole. It sucked to expend so much energy for practically nothing, but she managed to shake off the tension when she spotted the hollow where Mahler lay.

The rain was a drizzle that she hardly noticed anymore. Maybe this was just their lot on this new mountain: to be rained on incessantly. She didn't mind; it reminded her of her mother and the glade. Dropping from a fallen log, Wylla ducked her head into the darkness with a quiet growl to announce herself and dropped the pika there where Mahler might reach it without much stretching.

She wanted to grumble about the hare and the grouse that both evaded her, but instead she sprawled out at the mouth of his sick den and said, without warning, when you're up and about again, I'm going to pay the cliffs a visit. Make sure no one's skulking around there.