Shadowwyn Moor the mourning sun

The ridge stood like a jagged seam against the slate-colored sky, its rocky spines jutting up into the moaning wind. Below, the world stretched wide and pale, a barren scape broken only by the speckling of pine and the faint shadows of distant peaks.

Snow flurried down in fits, sharp and stinging against Gjalla’s fur, but she did not flinch. The cold was nothing to her—an old companion, a familiar ache settled deep in her bones. She had been born in this. Shaped by it. Her breath clouded before her muzzle in shallow bursts, vanishing into the tempest like all things eventually did. 

The black wolf missing an eye. The husband. The Chieftain. 

Sun Eater.  It had been days since Morwenna had left, and today, she would find her—would find them. They had left in a blur, left chaos and bitterness behind in Swift Current. Her lips curled in a faint grimace; an inconvenience, that bit.

Her silver eyes narrowed as she surveyed the distance, every muscle in her poised frame taut with intent. Somewhere in the yawning distance, movement. So, she waited, as still as the ridge beneath her.

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@Sun Eater and maybe @Morwenna