Lake Rodney sleep don't visit so i choke on sun.

When had she gotten so pale?

Finley's brow furrowed thoughtfully as she gazed at her reflection in Rodney's gently rippling surface. She turned her head from one side to the other, studying her own face. She hadn't remembered the pale fur on her underside creeping so far up her face, nor could she recall ever seeing the strands of white peppering the dark charcoal over the bridge of her nose or down her back. Come to think of it, since when was the black streak along her spine so faint? She cringed as she looked at the scarred side of her face - long ago scarred by that porcupine's quills. It had always been unsightly, but never had it appeared quite this grizzly. Somewhere along the line, Fin had gotten old, and the thought made her feel oddly empty inside.

She gave a tired sigh, shutting her eyes tight as her stomach rolled again under the weight of the memory of all that had happened. She'd been feeling nauseous ever since leaving Blackfeather's now empty borders. They had won, and now they were safe. They had accomplished what they'd set out to do, but still. Finley took a deep breath to steady herself and push the thoughts aside. Dwelling did not help. It was time to move forward.

The alpha turned and walked slowly back towards the Caldera, taking her time. Her leg ached fiercely still from the fight, so really there was no option for her but to move slow. In retrospect, it was stupid for her to have left the borders at all, but she had needed time alone to think. Ironic, since she'd spent most of the time trying desperately not to think at all.