Northstar Vale Yioí

His voice was tender at the mention of his wife—an act that both warmed the she-wolf and caused her own to flutter painfully in her chest. Such love and devotion between two beings—was it in her grasp now, or was it like other times when she felt happiness could be within reach?

So she remained pensive at his question—wondering what it was she wanted for her future.

And somehow, she refrained from a sardonic laugh—the kind that would grace her at the worst of times, when these sort of fairytale notions were presented as if possible.

“I’ve spent most of my life drifting,” she offered, drained at the idea of having to explain it all. To relive it, again and again. “I just want a home.” Her needs were simple—what hearth and home looked like, she still wasn’t sure. But Tamar and the wolves of Epoch were beginning to form a rather tempting picture for her, and she stole a sideways glance to the man.