Moonspear In all the good times, I find myself longing for change.

Although the concept of a trip beyond Sagrannet's claim had at first filled her with excited anticipation, Ciri had come to feel a myriad of things as those hours extended into days: exhaustion, wearied paws, frustration, sorrow. Although her mother allowed ample opportunities to rest when she and her sister required such, it did not come easy for her. Sleep was difficult in each strange place they found to settle, despite the comfort that her parents' proximity provided.

Nyx' call was regarded with a disinterested flick of a sable lobe as they carried on across the flatlands toward the spires that reached up into the clouds. The little blackbird blinked up at the clouds that masked its peak, at the pallid cap of snow that reminded her of the frost she'd seen in recent mornings on her father's mountain. 

A mountain that was far, far behind them.

She lifted her dark muzzle to seek Mahler's grim features, but before her gaze coukd reach him she spotted a streak of silver as it tore across the plain and in their direction. Panic rose in Ciri's gullet as she veered instinctively aside, closer to the gargoyle and wary of the stranger as she moved to intercept her dam. Only when she recognised her approach as a friendly one did the youngster slacken, and she blinked her curious yellow stare toward the sterling wolfess to observe the interaction that would follow.

Another arrived, with tawny furs that better resembled those of Nyx, an adult who radiated a sense of calm as he too acknowledged the lioness. His attention swept over Ciri and Elke only briefly, before focus lingered on stoic Mahler. Her gaze followed, curious, before she looked to her mother in silent yearning for an explanation.