No Children

She was home here. She thrived among the sand and dunes, hunting lizards and snakes, basking in the warm rays of the sun in the mornings and hiding in sandy dens at night. Micha had found a place where she could set down roots and start over, start fresh. She was reborn. She rolled in the sand, washing her skin of the parasites that thrived on her body while scratching every possible itch they had left her with. The moon slowly faded into her vision as the sun set beyond the cover of the dunes. Her tail wagged briskly behind her as she rolled onto her side to watch, a high pitched howl escaping her as she greeted the stars. Valhalla could keep its lush grass and hooved prey, she was provided with everything she needed here, and would never be spoiled by gushing streams of water again. Of course eventually she would need to find water, but that could wait. Unlike most wolves she could last days without the transparent liquid. A product of good breeding she assumed.

Speech!