Bearclaw Valley In dewy heads of the young, nothing will fail

He was sympathetic; a likeable quality in a wolf, though she still struggled to believe that a leader should be so accommodating. It made her want to cringe, knowing that Kvarsheim was in a similar situation- and that the boy feared the pack's legacy might disappear. 

"Winter'th comin'," And now here she was, being the sympathetic, encouraging one. "Lone wolveth'll thtart lookin' fer a plathe for the wintuh. Maybe a few new oneth'll wander in," She hoped, for the both of them. It felt wrong, to hope for another pack's success; especially when her own flagged. What she didn't realize, was that it was an improvement, as uncomfortable as it was. 

"I'm thorry to hear that," She said. Harder to muster sympathy, when it came to dead patriarchs- it wasn't a pain that she had felt. "He'd be proud of you, though, don't you think?" She asked. "Yuh thtill tryin'." She said, gazing through ripples in the water in hopes of spotting a fish.