Winter’s chill still gripped my home, and it was only the most subtle of changes in the air that hinted spring was close at hand. One would never know it by glancing around my mountain home. Everything was still laden with snow; ice crystals still dangled from the branches of trees. But it was the faintest of scents, the smallest of changes, that hinted to me that less than a month remained of these cold, bitter temperatures. Soon the snow would melt away and the flowers would return; the trees would bud and the sounds of puppies would fill the air. The thought made me smile, anxious to meet the newest generation of wolves born to the crisp mountain air. Being born within the higher altitudes did something to your blood, at least it seemed that way with my family. We were drawn to the mountains, and no matter how far a member of my family might roam away, we always returned.

It would seem that much was the same for the shewolf who waited idly upon the borders of my home. I gazed down at her from a high shelf of rock, a slight overhang where I would sometimes come to simply to get a more aerial view of the borders rather than loping along the periphery. I recognized her, recalling her from not only my youthful days as a princess, but the early days of my reign as Queen. She had sought to become my advisor, but had the misfortune to fall in Pan’s shadow. Even Orca, my flesh and blood, stood no chance against him. His intelligence was unrivaled, and I thought myself the most well advised leader in all of Moladion. Once I had thought she might flourish as an emissary, but over a year had passed since last I’d seen or smelled a trace of her. Perhaps it was her mountain blood that called her home once more, but I could not be sure without speaking with her face to face.

I lingered a while longer, observing her from afar. But she did not call out to me, remaining in silent waiting. My tail lashed side to side once, not exactly in irritation, but slightly befuddled by this. If I had not happened to be coming to check upon things until tomorrow she would have sat for much longer in the cold snow of the foothills. As it were, I turned away from the ledge and found a familiar trail that descended into the foothills.

Picking up a long, fluid loping stride I made my way across the snow laden rolling hills. It was not long before I caught sight of her form once more, the familiar browns and blacks with traces of white and cinnamon of her coat standing out against the flawless white of the snow. I slowed my pace only just as I reached her, stopping suddenly only a couple feet in front of her, a slight spray of snow sprinkling around me as I halted. “Lavender, welcome home,” I said, my voice warm but also just the slightest bit tentative, unsure if she’d come home to stay, or simply to visit.