Swiftcurrent Creek when the moon sang,

Gjalla stirred at the black queen’s call, ears swiveling toward the sound before her eyes opened. The summons had a weight to it, quiet but deliberate.

Rising to her paws, she stretched briefly, shaking off the remnants of sleep before dragging herself from her den. The dawn light filtered softly through the trees, catching on her dark fur as she moved. 

She found Morwenna standing just beyond the threshold, her tall, stoic figure haloed by the creeping sunlight. The expression on her face, however, was anything but stoic. Gjalla’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the stiffness in her posture, the way her weight shifted subtly to one side. 

“Wenna,” Gjalla breathed her name, calm and level, with a touch of curiosity. She stepped closer, gaze meeting Morwenna’s icy blue one, searching for unspoken truths. “Something wrong?” The weary look in her eye was enough settle Gjalla off-center, worried.