Dragoncrest Cliffs Sundown in the Paris of the Prairies

She did not recognize the howl. Of late, Rosalyn tended the borders with more and more reluctance, and rarely did she do a full circuit if she did. She would not express or admit that doing so set her to aching more than the effort seemed to be worth. If she stiffened she was even more useless come the following day.

The call was distant to where she prowled, tracking the trail of a marten down the forest slope. Rosalyn's ear turned towards it and she lifted a lip with impatience. She would have to let the trail run cold to answer it... but there was no guarantee another would.

Fine. She turned from the hunt and cut a straight line towards the call, but it was likely still some time before she appeared in front of Chacal.

At first her demeanor was annoyed intent, but as soon as Rosalyn saw her daughter's face, that changed to blank surprise. Chacal?

She had been gone, but why? Where? Should she know? Shock, and the confusion it brought, held her in place.