In the last season she had begun to grow into herself once more. With the constant protection and scrutiny of Magnus, whom she never quite pleased nor did she completely pissed off in her view, she had healed much. The figure before that had been all angled bones and sharp edges had filled out to what it had been before, scrawny yet with a bit of meat softening her look and creating a more feminine creature. With his help, her ability to survive was becoming nascent. Not to mention her mind was beginning to soften once more from the hard edge that had been left upon it by the attack of Jaidah and Reaver. Magnus had certainly helped push her in the right direction even if he had pushed her into the creek along with it and she had come out looking like a drowned rat.

Her shoulder still bore a long, puckered scar that would never soften and always give her a sort of patch-work appearance when mixed with the scars on the base of her tail and neck as well as the far older ones that lie beneath her glossy fur on her hips. Life had begun to change around her and she had come to find the rhythmic beating of the surf against rock and sand comforting. It had begun to feel like home here. Magnus had begun to feel like home, if only because of their bond and the way he constantly watched over her. Fjallraven was always in need of a caretaker. Her mother had been that before and then Reich, then Jericho, and now Magnus. Magnus was steadfast - he did not wander or waver or disappear. She wonders where her savior Reich has gone and where Jericho has gone as well.

Yet she is content. Content to remain here in this land despite the way it has become topsy turvey and a new King has been crowned. One that is not of the royal blood - a foreigner. All would be well, she told herself, and her gold eyes always seek to latch onto the multi-hued figure of her imprint.

Today she trots back the den she had never left, Magnus's den, with a large pine cone cradled between her jaws with her overlarge ears turning and flicking and her thin legs practically bouncing in her jovial mood. It smelled so good and she thought it would make a wonderful addition to the small pile of flowers, plants, and limbs she had begun to pick up because they smelled good. Even if she couldn't hunt well - ach, or at all - she could keep the den clean and smelling fresh all winter long! Magnus would be happy with this new piece, she deduces, even if Magnus is never happy and her tail wags rapidly behind her as she stops near the den, ears pricking suddenly as a rabbit peeks it's head out from beneath a nearby bush.

Fjallraven's haunches quiver and her golden eyes look confused as she drops her head and lifts it slowly. If she put the pine cone down then it might hear her but what if she could catch it! How proud would Magnus be if she could feed HIM instead of HER! Oh she wants this so bad and finally she sets the pine cone down with a mind-numbing precision and watches the small jaw of the rabbit churning left and right. She crouches, wiggling her butt, and then leaps forward! TRIUMPH... FAIL! Her forepaws brush and trip over the pine cone and she ends up going head over heels towards the rabbit that skitters away before laying on her back with a dazed expression of frustration.