Blacktail Deer Plateau We will welcome summer's ghost

Blue stepped from the den as the last storm's cry went out across the land, and the rain settled to a drizzle then nothing. The air was clean and it smelled heavenly. She didn't much like the mud squishing between her paws, but the scent alone was enough to make up for it. She made a path through the large thicket that the plateau wolves called home. Her green eyes alight and bright with a bit of happiness. She had her fair share of sadness lately, but she also tried her hardest to find the good and the happy where she could. It would do Atticus no good to be sick herself on the inside so she worked at it.

As she walked she hummed softly to herself, thinking of her mother and her father, and how her father would be joining the love of his life soon. It was actually not a horrifying thought, it was a painful one, but he deserved this. He had lived long, and he had done her well. He deserved to die softly and happily, without fear that Blue would be crushed.