Lake Rodney [m] forever

It was a distant gaze he cast to the icy lake—the days blended together now, and only a day or so prior had he finalized the bride price with pelts he had felt fine enough to present to the moon woman for her daughters hand.

Still, as eager as he was to return to the busy life of the spear, for this one night, he made to take a moment to mourn the past, and it felt at times, the future.

During his time away, he had ventured to the Sunspires and noted the man who raised him was disappeared from its depths. The unknown well-being of Mahler had injected a thread of worry in the silver wolf’s heart, and in turn, he had returned to the pack of his mother and siblings—had he chose not to listen to his heart, he would have missed the chance to say goodbye to her.

And thus, he remained somber.

Her final words to him having brandished him.

But it was the quickening of steps that drew his larger form upward—his gaze narrowing, only in time to see a streak of pale silk—his name uttered—and the warmth of her embrace when she all but leapt into his embrace, and he found his muzzle burying to the thick fur of her neck—inhaling sharply—struck in that moment by not just her beauty and resilience, but her love for him.

That was what mattered, was it not?

He found himself without words for this moment, as he held her tightly to him. Torn between leaving the memory of his prior home and returning now to the one he would ensure home remained.