Golden Glade first dawn

Mictec felt Qvasir’s presence before she saw him, the air thickening with a weight that had come to not just offer her peace but a sense of place. As his form emerged into the moonlight, she met his cold, steady gaze without flinching, her marigold eyes burning like embers in the frost. How she must have looked to him now compared to their first meeting and how much she could see her own change reflected in his eyes. She couldn't help the soft smile that rested on her lips.

Mictec then caught Atozli scent, one that still carried soft remnants of a land from a time long ago. Their own conflict had come to settle as she now saw the other's potential to revive traditions both previous packs had carried.

So with each step she took, Mictec was able to gaze upon their growing claim, dens to combat the winter chill and a small but steady supply of game to endure until the coming spring. 

Her steps guided her to the knarled exposed roots where the obsidian stone of her abuela rested. It was there that Mictec then placed her new stone, a peculiar mixture of bands of golden to reddish-brown hues, arranged in a wavy pattern that resembled flowing sunlight or molten gold contrasted by darker streaks of brown and black.