Firefly Glen [BWH] névoa ‹‹

aw! 

the fields trembled beneath the weight of so many paws. wind tangled through the grasses, carrying laughter and the metallic sting of blood— fresh, wild, and warm.

margarida stood apart from the chaos. her breath came even, soft against the still body of the marmot clutched in her jaws. it was not a grand prize, not the kind of catch that earned praise or lingering eyes, but it was hers. a quiet, clean kill. she laid it down gently in the green.

sunlight spilled gold across her white shoulders, catching on the mahogany streaks down her back. she licked her muzzle, tasting salt and dust, the faint sweetness of magnolia ghosting from her fur.

around her, the others bayed— wolves of every shape and clan, drawn together by hunger and pride. margarida only watched, the delicate tilt of her head betraying neither envy nor disdain.

she pressed her paw to the marmot’s cooling flank, whispering a breath of thanks in her mother’s tongue.

obrigada, pequena alma.