Boartusk Heights maduro

claiming the second spot across from the grand hall

Who knew all that time spent cave-diving through the palace would come to use—Nymphora knew exactly which of the tunnels she wished to make her own. She wanted to be close to the grand hall, make all the important meetings, hear all the important words that were spoken and reserved for the older wolves.

The way the pampered fledgeling saw it, she was a princess, and therefore had every right to know what was being discussed—age be damned! She was plenty old enough to handle all sorts of things. 

She would turn to look over her siblings, see if they too were as eager as she was to not have to share a bed with each other. As they had gotten bigger, bedtime had become a mess, limbs sprawled about in every direction; it hardly made for a comfortable sleeping experience. 

Nymph would decorate her own bed, cover it in flowers and bones, and none of the other three were invited. She still held a bitter taste in her mouth after getting kicked in the stomach by one of them while they all slept a night ago- the culprit still unknown to her, and so they would take the blame that festered in her rosy gaze. 

Turning back from her sisters and brother, she looked up at her mother while she inched forward, permission was given, but she still hesitated. ...I want that one. She said quietly to the matriarch, pointing down the hall with her nose.