Ankyra Sound Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

Would you like to see where I was born?

The Watch was no longer an option, leaving Wylla and @Stag unmoored once more. She'd wracked her brain between spells of total despondency trying to come up with another place to go, and she hadn't come up with a single idea. Somehow on her way across the taiga to where she'd broken her last heartstring, she'd failed to discover any of the packs in the area. Without the Watch, she knew only of two: Sagtannet and Rusalka.

Neither were options, in her opinion.

She knew she had to find somewhere for them to spend the winter, and was at a complete loss for where that was, but she remembered that the coast was always milder. The damp could soak through coat and flesh alike, extending frosty fingers down into a wolf's very marrow, but there was usually less snow, and the wind was less icy. She could do without feeling frostbitten every day. It's not a very pretty place, she shared. My mom was actually a captive at the time. My dad, well, we never met him. Guess he probably ran off to fuck some other girls or something, I dunno. She made a short sound in her throat, unamused. It seemed like such a man thing to do. She hoped Stag didn't grow up to be that way with whoever he eventually chose, and any children he eventually sired.