Black Morass timor

The days grew starkly colder—with this, a sense of urgency coiled in the younger woman’s belly, pulling her—but she did not know what for.

To settle?

To call it quits?

To seek companionship?

Pale lilac eyes blinked, her jaws widening in a yawn, though it held the duress of stress rather than fatigue with it. Whatever there was to it, she had to do something soon—the small squirrel at her paws was the grandest feast she had in days now.

Reaching down to pluck her quarry back up, eager to leave this more morose area behind. Much of the valleys and mountains had left her thirsty for the taste of freedom and adventure—something about this specific area felt far more lackluster.

Or, perhaps it was her mood.

She froze when she saw a dark wolf rolling—jaws clenching tighter to her meager prize, eyes narrowing before the wolf rose—and she almost barked a laugh at the realization of who she had stumbled upon once more.