Dragoncrest Cliffs than the war-chariots of the lydians or

her nostrils flare wide at Haunt's gift, and she looks away for a moment, then turns to face the small crowd full-on. she still lingers back, watching the pups.

four of them—twice as many as her and Aventus.

she wonders—would Astara whelp this year? replace the two of them?

or. . .not Aventus. he, apparently, is irreplaceable, for they'd chosen him over her. but whatever new children would join him, and form the core of Ursus—where she belonged—

ears pinned back, the whites of her eyes showing, she reels back and turns on her heel, moving away at a steady trot.

she's not ready. not yet.

she needs to be alone.