Selfishly Hoping

Patrol was eventless like always and Karabela sighed as she slipped back into the Rustling Thicket. She’d finished moving her den here a few weeks ago and thankfully she had finished before the ground started to harden and freeze. Abaven had been quiet lately. She’d debated about calling together a training session but with the mysterious illness making its way through the pack she decided that it was best to wait. Besides, with winter coming on fast the packs energy was better spent with hunting. Maybe she could call a hunt later.

Slipping through the amber rushes she caught the scent of one of her older packmates. A man named Hansel if she recalled correctly. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to though she knew the older man was a rather quiet soul. As she spied him she called out. “Hey old man! How’s it going? This chill weather isn’t to hard on your joints is it?”

"Speech"