the others

Abaven smells strange. The air is lighter and warmer than it had been in Erövrare, but the scents that linger on the breeze are unfamiliar and unsettling. Leera wakes from her light, dreamless slumber, rolling quietly out of her ball of warmth to peer across the pack lands. Sleep is something she hasn't gotten much of in the past few days -- reasonable, considering everything that's been going on -- and even when she does succumb it doesn't last long. She noses around for her pups, takes in a breath, and stands. "Remain in sight," she advises those tiny ears, her face blank as her pink eyes scan the plains. "Shaye and her companions have been kind to take us in, but you can never trust too easily, my children. Always keep your eyes open." Her mind wanders briefly to Tyranis, images of his blood-smothered body, and she silently contemplates his whereabouts. His motives. His next moves.

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