She moves on, leaving the decaying dead to their insufficient graves. She did not bless their way, and she would not, could not. Suddenly, a scent wafts to her, and as she continues on her path, she calls out to the stranger – or the familiar face – in query. ”Your talking looks like this!” She would not tolerate anyone following her, nor would she allow them to continue such a thing. Her heart is heavy, and now – though she is rather happy with it – so is her frame. She has eaten well, made sure that the ones growing in her womb were well looked after, and now should this new wolf prove to be a threat she will unleash the caged beast within herself, pregnant or not. Her darkness matches her imprints, and she is not afraid to use it should she have to.

”Your talking looks like this!”