Fox's Glade someone only you could want

@Silvertongue.
Not a day had gone by in the past weeks where the riverwolf left her mind. Wren thought herself almost diseased; during long days of travel to and from the palace of red sands, mundane duties back at home. When the sun's first rays of light beam across the valley in the morning, late at night in her den whilst everything else went quiet.
It was sickening, horrifying, and yet she couldn't stop herself. Her skin itched, her head swam, her heart thrummed!
So, tonight, in a lull of activity as the muggy midsommar evening came to a close, she finds herself slinking through the brush and out past the meadows and grasslands.
She had a promise to fulfill. Deep in the heart of the glade, she calls for the sharpfang with a lift of her head to the stars.