Golden Glade poison or weed

Mictec’s ears twitched, her gaze following Aitana’s toward the distant treeline. The weight of the other wolf’s words settled over her like freshly fallen snow—quiet, but heavy.  

You’re not wrong, she admitted, her voice steady but thoughtful. She sat back on her haunches, her tail curling over her paws for warmth as her eyes scanned the horizon. Winter doesn’t care how strong or fast we are. If we’re not prepared, it’ll take us all the same.  

Her gaze shifted back to Aitana, her expression softening. But you’re already thinking ahead. That’s good. Shows you care. A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it carried the weight of her own unspoken thoughts.  

Mictec hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to speak further. Finally, she let out a quiet sigh. I can do my part. I’ve learned un poco from my abuela on how tend to wounds, and I can scout when needed. But... finding wolves willing to fill those roles? That’s the hard part. Everyone’s got their own struggles, their own worries. Asking them to take on more—it’s no small thing.

Her ears flicked back briefly, a flash of vulnerability crossing her face before she straightened again. Still, if anyone can pull it together, it’s us, right? she said, her tone lifting slightly, a spark of determination flickering in her eyes. Tenemos las ganas de sobrevivir. We just need to find others who share the same drive.