Northstar Vale heal your frays

Gray, she’d said… or, asked. He had not missed the inquisitive tone in her voice.

Like stone.

The boy’s answer was simple, quiet. He knew gray. He had seen the mountains with their rocks of ash-color. The clouds, too. In the first breath of winter, Antigone had noted that the skies were considerably darker. The bleakness of that had been difficult to adjust to. It looked as though it ought to rain but it never did.

When Arika spoke about her mother, she described her as pretty. Antigone blinked, ears perking. It was a word that he had heard his father use a number of times. The red-hooded wolf thought it interesting. Feeling as though he should add to the conversation or make himself relatable, the boy cleared his throat.

My mom’s pretty too. How far can you go? Do you want to see the lake?