Deepwood Weald To wander

she wished to return home, and had considered that her third camp might not come to pass. kukutux was weary from travel and wished to be in her village.

the lands outside moontide were rich with budding leaves and the rising heads of new flowers. wearing her rabbitfur wrap, moonmother allowed the dappling shadows of the weald to envelop her.

she thought of her children, of her mate, of moonglow.

of the grandchildren she did not believe she would ever know.

heavyhearted, kukutux bent to gathering a soft longtufted moss when it grew clear she was not alone. a figure with a hunter's build moved quietly but with purpose. for a moment, she only straightened to look at the stranger, curiosity shining rather than wariness.