Ouroboros Spine when I get to Tennessee

The seasons had stretched long, but somehow, Valiant had found himself in the midst of summer all the same. He returned to the borders of his wife's natal pack feeling weary but satisfied, a bouncy yearling at his side.

He'd allowed her to carry their pelts — but only because she insisted.

"You howl, then," he said, trudging along a familiar path to the dens. "Chatterbox," he added, accusing her without any true intention of chiding her. He knew she wouldn't take it as such, anyway — everything he said seemed to slide right off her back.

The weight of the three deerskins was cumbersome, but Angel was strong underneath them. Not, perhaps, stronger than Valiant Morningside, but she was at least much younger. More energetic, too. And, yes, she was far more chatty, and she did not mind being reminded of the fact.

Still.

"Hello!" she howled, her voice a joyful song: "We're home, we're back, we're ready to party!"

Perhaps she sang just to annoy the older male, as punishment — but if Valiant was annoyed, he hid it well behind an indulgent little sigh. She followed along in his path, pinching the edge of the pelts draped over her back between her teeth to pull them just a little more securely in place. She picked up the pace when she was sure they wouldn't slide away, hurrying after the older male.