Her frustration was thick as the summer mists around her. Iromar was cooler than usual and a light drizzle fell on her pelt as she paced the trails of her home. The dark clouds overshadowed her usually cheerful mood, threatening a storm.

Ever since Eleanor’s death any of those who had been close to her had been more on edge than Pine could ever remember. Despoina had taken to long bouts of disappearing, releasing her grieving rage elsewhere and Pine had begun taking a greater interest in caring for the pups the women left behind. None of the pups were taking the loss well either and the Alphess was thankful at least Adrian’s father was still around to be a parent to the foster child. Vasily also was taking the loss...violently. It was all Pine could do and all she could hope for the grieving family to put their trust in her paws instead of lashing out as the family of warriors was known to do.

Pine sighed as the rain started to pick up, darkening the exotic shades color on her face and back while causing the silver to shimmer subtly in the muted light. Her vibrant and wild eyes still seemed to pierce through the fog of everything though. The forest greens and wooden browns seemed so out of place in the moors, while everything else about her fit perfectly. She breathed in again, the comforting thick scent and heavy air of Iromar, letting it fill her with the connection she had always felt with the land. When she opened her eyes again, the fire of the fierce spirit that fueled her burned bright. This was her home, and these were her people. Too many had died in the moors, filling the trenches with bad blood and worse thoughts.

But that was not all Iromar was. There was beauty behind the curtains. There was love between families both through blood and bond. There was a mystery and a playfulness, whispering of love and danger. In Iromar everyone danced on a knife’s edge, and everyone else would catch each other if someone slipped. Her tail wagged once, and she snorted in determination. This pack would still be great and it was well on its way.

Shaking some of the moisture from her pelt, she picked up her pace to a padding trot. Her rounds done for the morning she let her body relax. Paw falls made more noise and her movements were not a secret as she moved deeper into her pack. Now she simply moved through the common grounds and around pack mate’s dens (though never uncomfortably close). Her movements were a passive and quiet reminder she was around coupled with a mild invitation to join her if any so chose to. She was careful to keep herself available to the wolves, ever friendly and open to her family and friends. Even when she had been tempered into a rage hours beforehand.