Sunset Valley fall (raven’s descent)

The fawn was happy.

Or she should have been, at least. She was fairly certain of that. There was prosperous hunting, her family was weaved back together, all was alright.

But Vairë was always watching where they had left, her eyes on the distance. It had been comfortable at home. There was new wolves here, wolves she did not know, and they weaved through their camp and the mountain. Vairë did not dislike them, per say, but she made no effort to know them.

Today, the wheat child was on the edges of their village, enough to be in sight of an adult, but feel as though she was alone, for a time. Her eyes tracked the horizon, clad in dismal grey clouds, and occasionally they’d fall from the clouds to the scenery, twitching back up after a moment. Her face was grim for such a young child, posture lightly slumped. Homesickness festered in her breastbone, but there was no going back now. She did not know the way.