Stone Circle chido

All day within her a rain has been pending. It gathers, withholds, consulting her emotions for a brief count, vanishing before she loses herself in examining it. It’s kept at bay in little exchanges with Skáld or Taktuq, or several superficial hunting attempts, one she is partaking in now when the steely Riverclan woman falls into view.

She raises her head nervously, standing in the noon-day lawn, skimming reasons why the pack leader might have need to approach her and finding none. She is a rather large mess right now and if she can skirt diplomatic exchanges, she will endeavor to.

“Silvertongue,” she greets stiffly.