Wapun Meadow tickle that cheek and take your throne.

Following his interaction with Fiona, Anselm sought out Etienne. He was the only wolf Anselm passingly trusted — and last time he’d been hurt, it had been Etienne to save him. 

He limped after the healer’s scent, growing suspicious as he sensed blood mixed with the aroma of earth. As he followed deeper, he saw new tracks join the imprints left in the dirt. 

Fiona. 

Anselm’s heart flared with fury: was she absconding with his healer so quick after Anselm’s warning? He picked up a hobbling lope, ready to sink his fangs in her hide. 

He was not prepared for the spectacle the met him. Etienne and Fiona huddled around a dark shape, the scent of blood and packed reeds in the air. A tension emanated from both - but it was the small figure that held Anselm’s attention. 

Vhat is this? Anselm barked, cutting between the two of them in a move meant to do more than simply end their conversation. He looked to both of them in disbelief, ready to fling this orphan girl  out by her hair were it not for an infuriatingly familiar scent clinging to her pelt. 

The widow.