Dragoncrest Cliffs i would much prefer to see the lovely

she allows herself to draw close to Erzulie, hunkering against—or what they could pretend to be—the cold cut of sea wind. she breathes deep, taking in the salt. braced against the breeze, shoulders slightly shaking, holding back imminent tears.

my broh-yer, she answers simply. no'hhin foh' me theh'.

it's the way of wolf packs. at least to anyone writing about them. to Avicus, it had been a life-altering consequence, and she stood here now, in a different clan—family—geography—

too much.

she has always been princess. with her demotion. . .what now?