Moonspear Once More Into the Fray

She was a homely thing, not free of scars borne out of trials and tribulations; it echoed in every moment she made, even down to the nonchalance she tried to muster up. Yet for all her relaxing and clear deference, it did little to quell the uneasy tide that had risen in Dirge, and did less to soften the shrewd, sharp gaze he had cast on her.

Where and when exactly he had begun to feel a wariness towards outsiders was a hard thing to pinpoint; he attributed it now to the fact that Moonspear had young within its keep once again, that the wolves he relied on most of all to help defend their borders were either absent or indisposed.

“Traveler is a title long stripped from me,” he told her, “and you’ve cut a dangerously close path to my claim with your hunting.” More than dangerous, had any other number been there with him. The fact that Lyra hadn’t come bursting out of the foliage to snap and snarl was fortune smiling on the both of them.