Beat like a heart thats painted in gold

The more things stretched out without the Archer-Lyall waking up, the more she began to question whether or not she had slipped through her mother’s Pookastone and into a realm of fae, so she would guard her name for now. Her weary respect towards other packs so far only came from the lack of her own to back her up. Under other circumstances, she might have robbed the younger wolf blind if it so suited her, those not strong enough to fend for themselves, deserved what they received.

“It is curious, how it rises so suddenly from the earth. My mother told tales of a pack she founded on a rock that rose out of the tundra... they had called it a Monadnock, though I’ve never seen one in person myself...” Much like she had never seen anything man-made, she only had natural formations to compare the castle to.

At the mention of fishing the silver woman perked up, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “We come from a Lagoon, do you have sturgeon here?” Her smile would not have been lost on Sigrún.