Duskfire Glacier concerti grossi, op. 6 no. 1

"Oh, hey Sakhmet," Lane returned the new bride's greeting with similar warmth. Her tail waved as Sakhmet approached. The scent of her heat had diminished considerably, so hopefully she was feeling a little more comfortable getting out an about, and being around other wolves. She had seemed a bit timid when she was first introduced.

"I hope you and Kigipigak are having some luck hunting. I wish we had more to share," Lane noted apologetically. She hated that their guests might not find their hospitality satisfactory, but there was no avoiding the truth: all of the Glacier wolves' pelts were hanging a little looser lately. 

"Are you okay?" Lane asked suddenly. Sakhmet looked like she was about to yak. Lane was not normally a great reader of faces, but this was an expression she knew all too well, given her profession.