Firefly Glen there is no prize to perfection,

She found herself thinking of @Hakumele this morning as she reinforced some markings along the eastern border. Pie’s teeth clenched slightly, remembering the awkward confrontation with his daughter. That had been the last time she’d seen him, despite his promise to say goodbye. It rankled, though she found herself worrying more than anything. He had simply disappeared without a word. Had something happened to him?

But like all the others who vanished from the mountainside, Tiuttuk couldn’t afford to go looking for him. She sighed as she dipped her hips, sprinkling urine on a fresh patch of bluegrass. Her questions would remain unanswered, unless he reappeared. Pie didn’t know how she would feel if he did. She didn’t think she would ever truly understand those who could just walk away like Moonspear and its people meant nothing.

She paused to glance upward, where the pale sky grew dim with gathering rainclouds. She saw thunderheads to the east, the westerly wind blowing scents of spring into her nose as it swept across the wilderness between the distant mountain ranges. Among them was the strong scent of a wolf, which drew her toward the neighboring glen, though a crosswind made it hard to pinpoint his location.

“Greetings!” she called into the increasingly blustery air. “I’m trying to find you but the winds are working against me.”

The “where are you?” was implied as she rolled to a stop beside a stream already swollen from the spring melt. If it rained, it might flood its banks and turn the glen into a mudpit. Treepie frowned thoughtfully, ears pricked in hopes of a reply.