Whitefish River And I see fire, hollowing souls,

It had been a slow week, but Ira had worked through the stiff and sore to ensure her muscles stayed strong. Her fur had yet to properly grow back, but at least it was beginning to. It seemed that whatever marks left from her injury would only be temporary, or at the very least hidden once her pelt had returned to its former glory.

The day had been another slow start, Ira left her children's side to attend to some duties, Orlaith departed and now she was out to patrol some of the borders. As she walked a call rang out, though what puzzled her more was the fact that it was Orlaith's voice. Hadn't she left? The Count would take no time to change her course and meet the firey woman.

Orlaith, you're back? No sooner than the words fell from her mouth did her eyes drift to catch the dark body nearby. A child. What was a child doing here? Was it Orlaiths? And who's this? He looked young, but he was probably older than her own children. Perhaps giving him the chance to speak would open him up more as currently, he looked rather upset.