It was with a shudder that the young leader sank into the stream, up to her nose, trying to quell the scent of herself. She’d turned two, and the odd sensations and restlessness she’d been starting to notice over the past week or so as the season turned had taken a sudden turn for violence.

She was assaulted with her first heat, and it was every bit as distracting and off-putting as she’d hoped it wouldn’t be. During her patrols, she’d taken to going alone, instead of with her aging father, and while that wasn’t unusual, she had to battle with the strange flutters running across Amos’ scent elicited any time she ran across a fresh trace.

Why could I not have been born in summer when strong smelling herbs and flowers are abundant, and the water being cool would be pleasant instead of chilling?

She couldn’t take the chill anymore—the water had soaked through to her skin and even her undercoat was soggy and cold. Aurielle pulled herself to her feet and shook heavily, flinging water in all directions and blowing out a sigh of frustration.

Carrying her leaf-grass-and-stick doll, Viviane meandered through the still-unfamiliar plains. She'd had permission to explore this land for a while but it had still felt like she was doing something WRONG to leave the moor without her mom so she hadn't done it often. When she heard someone splashing around in the stream, though, she just had to investigate. So she padded closer and watched with some astonishment as the alpha pulled herself out of the chilly water and shook off. Setting her doll carefully beside her paws, Vi spoke in a very serious manner. "You're going to catch your death of cold if you play in water in this weather."

Aurielle’s ears perked up at the young voice on the shore, head turning to find Gwen’s daughter Viviane staring at her. A fleeting grin quirked the young woman’s lips as she stepped onto the dry – if cold – ground and moved to sit before the girl. Ruefully, she though that if this heat cycle got any worse she might wish she were dead, but she let none of those thoughts touch upon her features as she greeted, “Hello, Viviane. I was just getting out.”

Her gradated blue gaze settled on the stick figure at the girl’s paws and she bent to examine it—from a respectful distance. She hadn’t gotten to spend long with her brother as a pup, but she knew the connection a child felt with their toys, and the little creation hadn’t been there when she’d gotten in the stream. “Who’s this?”

At the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder about the possible uses for such creations. Perhaps to outline hunt plans? She had a feeling Ayodele would be thrilled to try making little wolf figurines out of who knew what she could get those nimble hands of hers upon. And Ime, Paladin’s Mandrill, had been known to whittle on pieces of wood with obsidian flakes. Definitely a thought to keep in mind for later.