Hushed Willows And we would both lose our jobs

leading the group here had not been half as bad as he'd imagined; though in the wake of grief melkor feels like he is moving on autopilot; numbed to other stressors. though he and lave first began to map out borders there is still a lot of claiming to be done and this does not fall out of melkor's attention. he could find a place to bed during the nights after borders are established, after bellies are full and his followers are settled in. thru the grief, however; he's grateful for them.

together, they would make a home here.

a fresh start for them in the wake of death. just as he's done too many times before. in this, melkor is no stranger despite that the lash of pain feels as fresh as it did the first time. glacial gaze surveys his chosen path as he gives pause, pushing thru a particularly deep pile of snow; falling upon a girl. young, he thinks. a yearling or very close to it, with a pelage of sand, cream and butterscotch.

she is within the tentative borders but he doesn't fault for it. they are not yet established and their appearance in these willows is new. instead, the tundrian lets out a low chuff to announce his presence.