Hushed Willows and flowers never bend with the rainfall

Tucked away within the deep confines of her cozy, private little den, Tzila was at peace. She always was when there was darkness. When the shadows cocooned her in a thick blanket of inky comfort. They were her and she was them.

Her pitch sides heaved up and down once, in a slow, contented breath. Her sleep was dreamless, her hunger minimal. She had been keeping relatively to herself, only emerging at dusk to slip away from the confines of the territory. She may be marked as one of Elysium's own, but that would hardly stop her from trying to live her solitary life. There were of course, some things that she just could not escape.

The howl that summoned her and others of the pack roused her. Lethargically, she lifted her head. Her expression was of classic irritability, with scrunched eyes and pinned ears. What did they want now? Could she not be left in peace? Tightened jaws quivering, she sneered at the joys...the responsibilities of being in a pack. The sunlight filtering into the den stung her eyes; it was too bright as she brought herself out to the surface. Sour faced, she considered not even heeding the call. But Olive and her pack had done a great deal by taking her in. Sighing dramatically, she supposed there was no harm in going to see what this was all about.

Arriving at the gathering by another den, she was dismayed to see that she was not the last to arrive. Putting on a neutral face and pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone else - even the puppies, she sat down on the outer fringes of the congregation. The stink of fresh defecation paired with her awkwardness towards the situation challenged her not to shrink in on herself.