Teetering on the edge

Asla had been moving some of the last items from the communal den to her new, personal den when she saw the sulking girl. Asla could practically smell the apprehension and nervousness on her. Her father again, no doubt. Always bringing home strays. Not that she could talk anymore. She'd brought home Bas, hadn't she?

Dropping the roll of skins in the grass, the young princess padded over to the new wolf. "Who are you?" The brow above her marked eye raised in question. "And why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" Asla had never seen a ghost, but she'd probably made a few.