Firefly Glen vuulnax ❦

The lady’s voice felt clean, somehow, maintaining a sense of purity in the air around her. The smoothness to her answer, perhaps coupled with her accent, kept Toad listen intently. She looked at the mountain, noting a great peak with snow dusting it, though the month was warm. Moonspear, she thought, wondering why they had named it such.

Toad heard of the great salt, and by this she assumed the lovely woman meant salt pans. You-lan, she misquoted, nodding once as an “I hear you” reply. The chocolate wolf stepped forward, plunking her paw into the water. It was warm, but she had no intention of invading the lovely white wolf’s space.

What would she give in her younger years to look like that.
She brushed that thought away.

And the Redhawks? Do you know of the Redhawk Caldera? she asked, cocking her head sideways. She knew that the Redhawks were done as a pack. But she wanted to see. Toad wasn’t sure where she would go from there, but history was important to her.