Behind the mask

She had been mildly surprised at Sirius’ offer to help carry the cargo to Abaven. She’d accepted, however. It was both practical, and she didn’t mind the company in the slightest. Not to mention, it was a rare rogue that would attack someone who had a brute like him padding alongside her. Bears and other large predators might be dumb enough to try, but most bears were intelligently asleep by now.

She padded easily, almost lazily as he inquired about the festival. A smile settled on her features. “Well, last Autumn I held a festival in the west on the Dancefloor. Deathbelle attended, along with her children, and several other members of Ashen. My allies, the Nomads, helped with much of the setup, and they’ve agreed to help this year as well.”

She lifted her eyes to a now thoroughly star-strewn sky, smiling slightly. “If all the packs agree and are willing to travel so far, I’m considering the Sweetgrass Basin. The bottom would be a perfect setup for the gladiatorial tournament. The basin would give the onlookers a perfect view of the fights. Unfortunately, last year, the fights didn’t pan out, and I hope to improve upon that this time. There will be feastings, festivities, trading, so the packs will be encouraged to bring goods. Loners are welcome as well. It’s a good opportunity for them to suss out packs if they’re looking for a home.”

Her head tipped to the side as she cast a sidelong glance up at the man, that easy, genuine smile on her features as she posed, “Do you have any ideas or suggestions to make it even more fun? I’m always open to suggestions of ways to make it a wonderful memory… especially for the children.”

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think