Dragoncrest Cliffs In the Curve of Old Bones

By all accounts, it sounded like the seaside pack was doing very well for itself. Even the little ones which had ventured off had come home, safe and sound. Like the rise, Sapphique had seen a shift in its leadership ranks, albeit theirs sounded far more positive. And, of course, there were new pups to come.

Sapphique is thriving. I’m glad to hear it, Masque observed with a wave of her long tail. The rise is doing as well as it can, in the circumstances. We’re also looking forward to a couple litters this season. Our hunt leader’s mate is already expecting. My sister and I hope to have litters later on.

Did Redd plan to breed too? Masquerade had treated it like a foregone conclusion that her sister would find a mate—or perhaps several bachelors, like their mother—and bear a litter. Although the Caru considered herself less primal in some ways, the idea of a Wealda who didn’t defend her claim via pups didn’t quite compute.

She set aside that thought, though it reminded her to mention, My sister, Redd, has taken our mother’s title. I serve as the pack’s Caru, its caregiver, and I consider myself second-in-command alongside the aforementioned Ulfhedinn. Remind me of your mother’s and aunt’s names and titles?