Light trickled into the den, a single beam casting across my face waking me from my slumber. For a moment I remained precisely where I was, not even opening my eyes. Surrounded by so much love, I could not help but cling to it for a moment. A silent smile pulled at the edges of my maw as I listened to the sound of my children breathing. Finally I opened my eyes, lifting my head slowly so that I did not disturb my not-so-tiny dragons. The soft light of morning illuminated their fluffy winter coats, and one particular spot highlighted the crimson streaks that hid in Drogon’s pelt. My nostrils flared, taking in each of their scents that flooded the den. This was the purest form of bliss.

It was not that I particularly wanted to leave my children, in fact I could have spent the entire morning simply watching them until they woke and bounded off in different directions. With their first winter nearly at its end I could only wonder how much longer they would want to share this den with me. Part of my hoped I would get at least another year, but their fast blooming independence would probably not allow for such a thing. In any case, I carefully extricated myself from the heap of fur that was my family, stepping around them until I stood upon the terrace of rock beyond our den’s entrance. I stretched in the light of dawn, the sun only just creeping above the horizon enough to illuminate our den. Casting a glance over my shoulder at my slumbering children, I smiled once more before turning and leaping over the entrance of the den to higher ground.

Ever upwards I made my way, wanting to inspect the snows that made the summits of the range impossible to reach. There were very few wolves who denned so high within the mountains, though I was aware that Ragnarok and Church’s residence was just below the snow line. I could not help but worry from time to time that if an avalanche ever occurred they might be trapped within their den. But as winter waned and the first breaths of spring warmed the earth I knew that such a threat no longer existed, for this year at least. This was why I made my way upwards, to investigate the receding snow line and ensure no small snow slides had happened. I was pleased to find one of my favorite summer trails revealed, the path damp with melted snow, and I followed it for some time until I found that the path to the overlook was still blocked by snow. It would probably be at least another month before the summit was free of snow.

My ears tilted back at the sound of howl, and I cast my gaze eastward. It was impossible to see from so high, but I looked nevertheless. Something about that voice sounded...familiar. My tail twitched slightly, trying to recall a face that went with that voice. It toyed with the back of my mind, the aligning of memories just out of reach. I turned back down the path, picking up a graceful lope that carried me soundly and swiftly down, down, down.

It took me quite some time, being so high among the peaks, but eventually I reached the lowlands. Wandering eyes searched the area where I suspected the caller to be, but it was the flick of an ear that caught the vocalizations of conversation just out of sight. I jogged towards the sound, coming around a gathering of bushes to see Ragnarok’s large form standing before that of another. Shifting my path ever so slightly I caught a glimpse of the wolf who stood opposite to him. My step faltered, almost tripping me up, and my eyes grew wide. His legs were longer now, despite the fact that he was still shorter than me, and his face was far more sombre. But there was no mistaking that silvered pelt, touched with white and lined in black, and the russet that washed his jaw and throat.

“Ramiel?” I could not help the question in my voice, despite knowing it was him. It had been more years than I cared to count since we had seen each other. I did not intentionally interrupt whatever conversation he and Ragnarok were engaged in, but I could hardly believe my eyes. My attention was steadfast upon him, though I brushed my shoulder against Ragnarok’s momentarily by way of greeting as I came closer. My head was clouded with memories of blissful play with my nephew, racing and wrestling in these very meadows. ...Ramiel totally crushes the Princess!.....when you’re Queen, can we do this still?... My usually regal composure was somewhat lost on my face, my mouth falling open in a soft ‘o’ of disbelief. We’d always talked about how he would be part of my council, but I had thought him lost to me when he’d disappeared from the mountain some four or five years ago.

And then, all at once, my tag began to wag furiously. It seemed so out of place with the stunned look that adorned my features, and yet my bodice never lacked for the strength of my regality. I probably looked like three wolves smashed into one, but my heart raced and I didn’t care. “Is it really you?” Mahogany eyes sought those that I remembered of pale lavender, speckled through with green. Had he really come home?