Firefly Glen suspended in this disaster

driven out by the maddening chokehold of her season, astara skulked from bearclaw. she felt its walls oppressive, merrick's presence -- while beloved -- only served to make her feel more claustrophobic.

she wished to be alone.

hours had passed since she slipped from the darkstone valley. she had slept off most of the day under the frond of a fir, and now watched curiously as a creature -- wolf, by her guess -- meandered close.

he was tracking something; astara kept to the shade, watchful. if she hadn't known better she would have said he was following a path strikingly similar to her own.. but that couldn't be, right?

her gaze hardened, the cut of her indigo eyes reproachfully watching the boy. he was young, lean -- by astara's measure he might make a fine chew-toy for merrick..

if he ventured any closer he would find this little shade had fangs.