Stone Circle Heartland

A home.  She gives Tréheim another long look, her den for the foreseeable future, tail thumping and chin warmed by the little press of Skáld’s muzzle against it. She brushes the bridge of his nose with a feathery kiss, “Thank you.”

Like a commoner given keys to a stately manor she whirls about, imagining everything she can do with all this space! Perhaps start up an herb garden after her lessons from the Riverclan, or carve a meat cache- oh, to never feel hunger again!

But all this fanciful daydreaming is quickly abandoned with the realization that she is reluctant to part with her companion, and even such a beautiful refuge is made duller by the fact that, when all is said and done, the boy will return to his own lodgings wherever that may be.

“Skáld visit Tréheim? Teach Tauris Icelandic?” There’s a little waver in a voice that always fights to be so strong. 

There’s a look that silently pleads: please don’t leave.