Noctisardor Bypass fülle

“Yes,” she said, referring to that last—consistency. It was something she had been lacking before coming here, to Rivenwood. Her pack had been overtaken by a brash yearling, full of power-lust and no intelligence. She had left, and then wandered for months on her own. Those days of wandering had been, in their own way, consistent. Days of nothing and no one, hunting only for herself. But wolves were not meant to live alone.

She sighed, thinking of the winter that had forced her to look for her own kind again. “Cold weather I like, yet I would like it more if the prey continued to come despite the snow.” Were this the case, she would not have had to find a pack for warmth and protection from winter, though she did not say this to Mahler, who had taken her in.