we're smiling but we're close to tears

The ghostly female let out a long, sudden breath as she returned to the surface of the salty water, her eyes opening to see how far she was from the island. And to her relief, not far at all. In fact just minutes later she was climbing onto the sandy shoreline, water dripping from her soaked fur and leaving a trail as she moved toward the shade of the trees. Her body quivered from the cold; here in Boreas it was freezing. She had picked a relatively warm day to swim toward one of the islands but the water was still obviously icy cold. When grass met paws she stopped and shook her fur, cold water droplets flying in all directions. Sand caked the bottom of her still-wet paws and her muscles ached but she knew it would all be worth it.

It might've seemed unusual or odd but Wren enjoyed the feeling of being on this tiny island all by herself. She felt safe and cozy here; if not for the swim, she'd come here all the time. Stretching her sore muscles with a long bow, she stood and sauntered deep into the forest, the minimal amount of trees providing her with unneeded shade. As much as she wanted to, she refused to think about her kids or her husband and how much she'd like to have them here. It would ruin her state of content. So instead she thought of how beautiful the view from this island was. Shaking her fur out once more, she sauntered over to a small, comfortable-looking patch of grass and seated herself within it.

From there she looked out into the ocean, her fur swaying gently as a gentle breeze seemed to come back and forth between the mainland and here. Wren smiled. What would she do with herself, now that she lacked a pack and a family?

"Burn Baby Burn"