Noctisardor Bypass baby, would you love me the same?

Wylla clapped her jaws shut to the tune of a cicada chirring, tongue curling against the roof of her mouth as she finished her yawn. It was a stifling morning, a commonality in the valley. Maybe she had become too accustomed to the mountains. Her thin coat wasn't well suited to winters at high altitudes, but the summer heat was bothering her a lot more than it ever used to.

She wove between trees in search of breakfast, but what she found instead was a vaguely familiar red-gold pelt. Wylla froze, gaze boring into the back of a wolf who resembled Taikon so much that her hackles spiked. Mahler had told her he was gone! How could he possibly have allowed this cur to return?

What the hell are you doing here?!