Dragoncrest Cliffs we are still trained killers

Chacal sighed softly and stretched as she rose, her belly sagging and pulling on the arch of her lower back. As if disturbed from their slumber, the children in her belly stirred and pressed their paws against their vessel. Soon enough, she thought- and they would be out.

She moved to the Roja den where Mireille had called from. Had she sensed more peril, she might have hastened her step, but her joints ached enough as it was.

When she arrived, she spotted the still-damp youngster- perhaps Chani and Chiro’s age- visibly blinded in one eye and exhausted. She could sense the young woman’s skittishness, see it in the whites of her tired eyes.

She moved forward with a calm step, and gave her sister’s cheek a nuzzle so the young one would know she had come to the keep of caring wolves. ”Who be dis one?” She chimed in a quiet, singsong voice.