Let it be

To call Epiphron distraught would not at all be an understatement. While she was able to hide her worries from her pack -- even from her husband, for the most part -- she felt nauseous at the thought of impending war against their closest ally, Valhalla. She wanted to visit her former pack soon, to make sure they were training and keeping their warriors alert and prepared. Also, to ensure they knew that Seracia would gladly welcome the women and the children, as well as the weak and those unwilling to care for themselves. She would defend them with tooth and nail; her and Maverick's marriage had only further secured an already strong alliance. The two packs were nearly as close as two separate groups could be. If they needed their help, they would welcome them with open arms.

And she couldn't help but feel like she would be inclined to step into the mess, even if they didn't request help.

Her thoughts wandered as she padded across the territory, paws sinking into the light dusting of snow that coated the earth. It was easily the most lovely season, but also the most dangerous. Soon, prey would become scarce, and she was partially dreading the impending hunting lessons with her children. They would likely subside on small rodents throughout the winter, unless the pack could team up and take down something larger.

It was then that the scent of a fresh kill arrested her attention from her slightly somber thoughts. Muzzle jerked upright, blue gaze dancing about her surroundings, searching for the source. The Queen's nose dipped back to the earth, tracing the scent ... straight to the woman with the strange eye patch who looked oddly like her own adopted daughter. It took her a moment to search her memory for the lady's name. "Riva, right?" She called out kindly, smiling amicably. Slowly she padded forth, noting she had managed to catch a rabbit this morning.