It was a troubling time. Church didn’t get out too much anymore, where once her small feet had carried her far and wide in her wanderings, now she is far too content to stay here on the top of the world with her heart-soul and their growing children. How they had grown, and would no doubt soon be going off to find dens of their own, but for now at least they were content to still call their home high atop the mountains home which made her heart smile. The den was more than big enough for them, after all, thanks to the generations of large wolves that came from Ragnarok’s line, even with her children’s rapidly growing forms. Both Jackson and Bastille were nearing her height, sure to surpass it soon, and both were good and strong, Constantine a bit shorter than them, and Embla was smaller still if only slightly but what she lacked in size she made up for in wit and knowledge. They had all been finding their own places in life, and while she was excited for them her heart hurt for the day they left.

Still, even atop her sheltered haven, she had heard the challenge that rang out across the mountainside seeking claim of their home. She had hurried to the ledge which overlooked much of the lands below, her brilliant aquamarine eyes searching the grounds as if she might be able to see this usurper who threatened their way of life, to no avail of course. Still a low growl rumbled in her throat, odd for the largely peaceable woman but she could not abide the thought that someone would seek to take their home from them. She sighs, her eyes closing with joy as she can feel Ragnarok approach, the bond between their souls humming with a life all its own.

His silver fur mingles with her own golden coat and she leans into him both for support and to simply feel his warmth. High atop the mountains the temperatures are already dropping steadily, and despite the suns attempts it is a chilly afternoon. Extending her golden head she nuzzles at the base of his neck, the most easily accessible part of him for her shorter frame, before stretching out to lick at his cheek. “Whatever happens, as long as we’re together we’ll be alright.” The words are quiet, more to reassure herself than him, but something she felt needed to be said. Her small ears twitch as she hears noises from the den, turning to see her children approaching with varying emotions etched on their own faces. Jackson looks almost angry, his eyes dark as if this was somehow his fault while Bastille seems much more worried.

Quietly she pads toward each of them, placing a soft lick atop each of their heads in turn before giving them her most award winning smile. “Don’t worry, my loves, Queen Daenerys is more than capable of fending off some upstart usurper.” She had heard rumor of a wolf who was challenging the most founded families of Moladion, a fool’s errand if you asked her but she had faith in her queen. She walked back to her rock, her moon and waited, waited as they all did to see what would become of the home.

When finally the reassuring voice of Daenerys washed over the mountains once more she breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing her breath had been held in the first place. With a smile she reared back, placing her small, golden paws atop Ragnarok’s back and licking happily at his ears before looking back to her children, “See, I told you all would be well. Now go to the gathering! We will be right behind you.” Like a flash of golden light Bastille is off, no doubt to see that her prince was alright Church thought with a knowing, motherly grin with the others trailing behind, though if they would actually go to the gathering she wasn’t sure. Jackson and Embla were not the most sociable of young wolves, after all. She steps down from Ragnarok’s back and looks toward his comforting, ice blue eyes with excitement and relief sparking in her own, “Well, all’s well that ends well. She dances back a bit, ever light on her feet before turning toward the path that would take them down the mountain. “Come on then, slow poke,” she teases, “We had best go be sociable for once.” She was Courser after all with winter coming her duties would be more important than ever to the other families who called the mountain home.

The walk to the clearing didn’t take too long, but she much enjoyed it with her moon by her side as they walked down the mountain. Autumn flooded the mountains with leaves in a multitude of different hues of red, orange, and yellow, and even now most still clung to their colors as winter approached. They entered on the far side of the clearing and made their way to where everyone gathered beneath one of the rocks which she knew Daenerys had made her throne. Joining the procession she approached her Queen, and a male she assumed was her mate. “Daenerys it is good to see you returned to us. I hope your wounds heal quickly, if you and your family need anything in this time please do not hesitate to ask.” She offers a light smile and a dip of her golden head in respect before moving to an open spot amongst the others in the pack. Her small form settles in quickly, leaning softly against Ragnarok’s; as if she cannot bear to not be touch him, which if very near the truth. As her aquamarine eyes dance across the others who had joined them this day she spys the golden-capped form of her daughter sitting beside the gray prince. Laughing quietly to herself she nudges her moon, nodding toward their daughter with a knowing, motherly smile.