Northstar Vale Yioí

she's barging in... sorry not sorry.

She could hear a distant shout—angry and sharp with its demand—and even she blinked in surprise at the tone of Tamar as she summoned her son. She could take no more—her heart ached far more than her side, and so she began to hobble her way toward the den of the lead couple, somehow involved in all of this and yet not at all. Maybe she could talk to him—ease whatever it was that ailed her apprentice.

But when Tamar called for Reyson, a certain fire licked up her chest. And she moved faster—a hurricane ready to set itself upon a village—not understanding the sudden focus on her paramour and not appreciating the words shared to him.

Of course, a hurricane in her state she was not, and she came from the brush more like a winded kitten with a scowl planted on her features. She was about to erupt—her form sidling up against Reyson, his own form muted and accepting of some strange punishment she did not fully understand—but then one look to Tamar’s stricken face and she melted, now moving to her sister, pressing to her, worried for her and the pups she now carried.