Stavanger Bay if you've got nothing nice to say

Liyaní didn’t understand the turbulent emotions she was experiencing. She only knew that her feelings weren’t pleasant, and that more often than not she was in the worst mood imaginable. She felt the cold sting of resentment towards her caretakers. She didn’t understand why she felt the way she did towards Ragnar and Thistle, though. All Liyaní could really comprehend was that both her parents and her brother were gone.

The only wolves she didn’t feel bitterness towards were her siblings. They were a source of comfort for the tiny girl. Their presence was home for her. The only other place Liyaní could remember to find that homey, soothing feeling was the old den she’d lived in when Verrine, Julooke, and Kevlyn had still been around. She hadn’t tried to venture there by herself just yet, but the idea was becoming increasingly more attractive to the sooty Ostrega.

Sleep had not come easily to Liyaní that evening and so when she woke before the sun had risen over the horizon, she didn’t even attempt to doze off again. She picked her way as silently as she could manage out of the den and slipped into the clearing. There, she spotted Charon’s snowy figure sitting not far away, his head craned up towards the heavens. “Whatcha doin’?” she hissed loudly as she hurried up behind him, oblivious to the notion that she might startle her pale-furred sibling.