Sawtooth Spire gipfel

She spent quite a while near one of the territory's waterways, trying to glean fish from the gentle rapids. Quell ate most of her catch herself, though she set the largest trout aside and only picked it up when she decided she was done. The yearling didn't eat it, instead carrying it toward @Wylla's den for her daily delivery. Catch of the day! she might've exclaimed before, though Q stayed silent as she gently set the trout beside the den and quickly disembarked, too dark to be a ghost but certainly a shadow of her former self.

Her path crossed with Mahler's and Quell blinked and slowed. Her head dropped and her tail went limp behind her as she rolled to a stop, waiting for the Eisen to approach her. She knew him, of course; there was basic recognition in her own lavender gaze. But there was no real familiarity and Q's body language—deferent, silent, almost soldierly—did all the speaking for her.