Stone Circle devour to survive, so it's always been

Nearing Inkeri’s den, a little wind batters the field flowers and she swats at fly with her tail, eyes and ears redirecting to the creek alpha.

“If that changes, please let us know.” They all had things in the valley they wished to safekeep. “We’ll keep an eye out for Mae. She’ll be alright, Akavir,” her lips pull into a tight bow as they pad ahead.

At the threshold of the nursing mother’s whelping den the nornir whispers a low croon, that she may be granted permission to enter. When she reappears it’s with a tiny, nacre bundle tucked in the gentle clutches of her mouth. She holds @Cygnet out for Akavir to take.