Moonspun Light [Cinnamon]

With Ardyn covering her patrol for the night—or at least the first half of the night, the Spirit had made her way from Valhallan lands, taking one of her usual circuits. Though she’d left at noon, by the time she reached the Basin the moon was on the verge of breaking over the horizon.

She stood on the ridge, gazing down at the still shadow-filled basin, wondering to herself that the summer was already nearly over, and there had barely been a trace of heat. Just last year this place had been sweet with the scents of summer.

She shook her head, descending the ridge, tail flicking behind her, leaving a brief light trail as the long, glowing hair whipped. Though wolves were generally blessed with good night sight, she was helped along with her own personal halo of light, and she stood out like a beacon against the dark grass.

She was on the fence about holding a festival this year. With as sparse as things had been, it wouldn’t be fair to the Nomads to ask them to help with a festival, and Valhalla needed to stockpile their own supplies. If this whole year was anything to go by, the autumn and winter months were likely to be brutal.

She was even reconsidering the plan for a second litter. What kind of world would her next litter be brought into if she and Red started another litter this upcoming season? Starvation? Deadly cold to freeze them even in the warmest alcove? She shuddered, lips pursing. The thought of not having more children was nigh on devastating, but if it meant they wouldn’t be born just to possibly die, she’d hold off.

She blew out a breath as she circled the basin, letting her thoughts flow, while Loshir padded a ways off to one side, pausing to scan the area. The mountain lion was an ink-black shadow with watchful pale blue eyes in the darkness. In time, he’d be heading off for one of his trips—trips that usually were followed with him coming home with a well-trained big cat who might choose one of her children for his or her charge. Just as her father’s companions, Loshir’s parents, had brought Loshir and his sister to meet Aurielle and Aramis.

Her chest squeezed, and she turned, as if she might finally see her twin padding up to her, an ink-black, blue-shimmering man with gentle blue eyes like their mother’s. But, as ever… he wasn’t there.

"Is mian liom go dtiocfá abhaile, daor cúpla. Tá sé ró-fhada. I bhfad, i bhfad ró-fhada."

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