Nova Peak tränenfleck

So long as you come back. Wylla grimaced. She wasn’t one to think often or long about her own mortality, having always been quite afraid to die, even at her lowest point when she’d contemplated suicide for a minute or two. The thought of losing her life to another’s fangs was terrifying—but it wouldn’t happen, she told herself.

Mahler would never have returned in such a state without dishing out equal punishment. If she found anyone on the cliffs, she expected them to have two paws in the grave. There would be no contest, or so she thought.

Mahler coaxed her thoughts back to the mountain with mention of the cubs. She couldn’t hide the way her shoulders stiffened. Wylla looked forward to teaching Phaedra how to hunt and could even imagine their gilded daughter prowling in formation beside Marble and Calcifer, but his other daughters had no place in her idyllic image. If it was up to her, their ilk wouldn’t even get to sup at the same table.

Unfair, that. Ciri and Elke were not at fault for the circumstances they found themselves in, but she loathed their existence all the same, and made it known in a quiet voice. Maybe I’ll take Phaedra, Marble and Calcifer out to catch gophers in the fields, or to show them some tracks, she suggested, refusing to meet his gaze then, knowing he might be hurt by the deliberate exclusion of Nyx’s daughters.