Hideaway Strath salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt

No need to match length, just got carried away. And 100th post!

Nyra alluded the Saints were relatively new in this neck of the woods. Zsuzsa quietly pondered why the Saints decided to relocate. Judging by Nyra’s mention and tone of revealing the sub-territories within the Strath, it was better to leave the past in the past for now. The tasks expected of members were fairly straightforward. Her ears flicked at the mention of building prey supply. That was a task Zsuzsa could easily take on. ”I’ll head out the next sunset to track what’s in the area.” Not only had she previously been a starved lone wolf that could use better meals than rodents, she also wanted a functioning purpose again in life.
 
At Nyra’s mention of keeping their territory undisturbed, there was a distant seriousness in her silver gaze. ”That was a promise Kynareth made to me. I hope that is the case.” She was tired of always being on edge, always wondering who was following her and if she would have the capacity to fight on her own. Kynareth had been so convincing at the time. So far it seemed like he was able to back up the convictions he made…
 
Her gaze then turned the hellhound who had been quietly observing at Nyra’s side until it was his turn to provide information. She mentally made a note about the river splitting the valley, keeping in mind for future hunts. A female by the name of Dove was the medic, which was good to know for future injuries. ”And you?” Zsuzsa inquired about Hemlocke, noting the subtle remissness of him leaving his calling unmentioned. He was cloaked in an air of mystery that intrigued her. He seemed so well-spoken, different from his initial impression.
 
Hemlocke began assisting with the den, to which a sway of her tail was given in appreciation. She too glanced toward Nyra, wondering if she would assist or be on her way, to which Zsuzsa would understand if needs be. Her paws then began back at diligent work on the den.