Hushed Willows uncloak

Her throat thickened when Njord confirmed what she had started to suspect: some of the wolves in Sapphique had not welcomed his return. It hurt her heart to hear it, though she understood. He had walked away from her once but he’d done it to some of them twice now. Meerkat couldn’t fault them for guarding their hearts.

She knew the pack was built around family and feminine power, neither of which left Njord much margin for error even in the best of times. But he brought up something she hadn’t even considered yet: competition for resources. Even if he managed to get back in the pack’s good graces, would there be room for their bairns?

Rather than despair any longer, Meerkat squared her shoulders and said, I think we should speak to Mireille. Maybe… She glanced off through the willows, each of the next several words coming heavily. Maybe we don’t belong in Sapphique anymore. Maybe everyone would be happier if we moved on. Her eyes cut back to him. I think Mireille could counsel us on this.

Maybe that was a lot to put on someone so young, yet she was the queen of Sapphique now. Long had she mediated between Njord’s family and the rest of the pack. Meerkat respected her and trusted her judgment, particularly in this. If there was anyone who could help them bridge that gap—or advise them to burn the bridge altogether—it would be his daughter, the Obsidian.