Dragoncrest Cliffs bonders' enclave

backdated to a day or few after @Val's promotion

A strong seabreeze swept along the morning coast and through the trees, pressuring their leaves and needles to fall. There was a familiar shrieking of gulls overhead as they wheeled towards the sea cliffs, and a lonesome gold shape exited the woods surrounding Glintwater Lake with a large fish dangling from its jaws. The towheaded Svalinn hunted for his nephew.

The already taciturn wolf had become almost mute in the days that passed by long after he’d expected his daughters to return. He’d convinced himself that he would not worry over them, that what would be would simply be, but he had not anticipated such a renewed feeling of loss and helplessness as spring turned to summer and summer to fall. He spent all his days patrolling back and forth from Sapphique to the sound and he only spoke if forced to.

Svalinn trailed the pack’s resident father and plopped the heavy gift before him with a grunt upon finding him. Congrats. It was the first word he had said in weeks, if not months.