A white sun peals back the layers of dawn as it climbs steadily up over the two tallest mountain peaks before reaching the horizon sky. Its warm light stretches across the mountains, over every rock, slope, and cliffside before descending into the vast valley below. The light strips away all the shade clinging to the highland trees and further down past the lush grasses in the far-out meadows until nearly all darkness has been cast out, leaving but the shadows and a haze of thick fog.
Across a gleaming riverbed whose waters are as clear as shards of crystals, a mother tigress is in pursuit of a temporary home for her pair of offspring for the duration of the summer solstice.
The cubs are six months old. The days gradually got longer, allowing the Phoenix to unravel her sacred light and wavering warmth for the forthcoming months. The first few months are always the hottest; the blistering heat leeching the water from the soil and flora until the rains come. Another spring shower had past the night before bringing the last chilled rains until the Autumnal equinox. It's humid. The morning air lingers calmly with little wind, but the scent of rain carries a rich earthy scent that only gets stronger the deeper they descend the mountains. As the hours pass on, and the sun settles close to noon, the fog starts to diminish.
The journey southeast from the North is treacherous, even pursuing through the mountains can be challenging, and the destination is far but well hidden. It is a territory of great ancestry, at least for her family. It has been a haven for as long as the tigress can remember. An ancient deciduous wilderness is hidden deep within the end of a valley surrounded by vast mountains untouched by outsiders. It's one of the very few seasonal forests that reach near North. Its trees change color with the seasons just like her kin's fur. A memory of her mother's stories of the Deciduous Goddess causes her heart to flutter and then sink in her chest as she recalls the path they've taken together many seasons over. This will be her first of many treks to the summer den with her current offspring to experience the summer solstice. It's a burden she must bare alone now, something she must learn to accept and overcome. All in good time, she tells herself often. The tigress knows the path well at least, being that of tradition to learn the path to the secret haven of her kin's descent.
The path cuts through the Eastern Mountains and gets very complicated if one does not know it well. Most herbivores from the North know the way with each generation following the trails of their ancestors, and even the birds farther south flock to this valley to nest. A few aged herds of Grey Hides that still know the way arrive in the valley to give birth to their fawns. The tigress has seen very few carnivores make their way inside the valley while alongside her mother. Most were wolves, while few were of her kin. But she hasn't seen another of her kind for a very long time and as far as she knows, the war hasn't returned to the north.
Shimmering light strokes the mother's pelt of rich embers, gingers, and dark reds making every color blend together standing out vibrantly from her jet-black markings. She lifts her head high to sniff the morning air, a long scar made visible along her jawline by the morning light. A mark she wears proudly. Other similar scars that look like teeth marks show on her left shoulder on the same side as the scar on her jaw. They look old.
She breathes in deeply and bellows a long sigh. It's heavy from the humidity, weighing down on her like a soaked hide, but vacant of any recent animals or beasts. The smells from the earth and river choke out everything else. All seems clear. The rains from the night before seem to have washed away any indication of the hunters and beasts chasing down another young tigress. Their imprinted trails long left behind are just ghosts washed away by sediment.
She shakes herself before leaning down to stretch her aching muscles. The journey had been a lot harder on her than the last, hence why she's been following a less precarious path for her and her cubs to follow. One of three her mother had shown her, but only two were truly safe.
As the mother tigress continues to scan the area across the riverbed of highland trees mixing with lowland woodland, the pair of cubs come rushing past her in quite a hurry. If it weren't for her daughter's laughter, the tigress would have assumed there was a threat. They sprint down the slope as the youngest, with all her might, dashes to catch up with her brother. One single pounce is enough to knock the oldest cub off his paws, causing him to lose his balance and roll down over the edge of the bank. In doing so, his sister laughs and mimics his actions. Both cubs plummet into the slow-moving river that, luckily for them, is shallow.
The male cub lifts himself out of the water first, growling with frustration. Striking lustrous eyes narrow at their younger sibling, but because of her playful nature the glare he's giving off only makes her laugh even harder. He huffs, exposing a few small fangs, and without warning sneezes several times in a row. The sudden action catches the male cub off guard which only fuels his sister's amusement.
"Pest," is all he can mutter as he whips the wet sediment from his face with his paw and tongue. After shaking the water out of his fur, his sister grins and once again mimics his actions. Water sprays back at him.
He hisses while stumbling back a few paw strokes, never fully falling back into the water, "stop it!"
"Aw, but I love you, big brother," she says proudly, a sly toothy grin spreading across the young cub's face. Standing up on her hind legs, she offers her brother a wet loving hug full of slick and slimy mud.
Slight panic rises in his chest as he tries to leap out of the water quickly, but the density of the sediment and mud prevents him from doing so.
"No! Go away!" She pounces on him and both siblings roll through the water like feral swamp varmints fighting for dominance. The male cub surfaces frantically coughing and clawing his way back towards their mother with his sister not far behind him.
"Gah! Mama, help!" He yelps as soon as his sister pounces a third time, pinning him in the water again. Her playful giggles echo into the trees startling roosting birds to flock into the sky. The male cub squirms like some helpless rabbit beneath her weight until their mother's profound voice stills them both.
"Settle now, the both of you." A set of beautiful paws glide through the steady water, passing over the cubs and temporarily disrupting their battle. Her long stocky tail brushes against the two of them warmly as she continues to speak, "There will be plenty of time for your scuffling once we reach our summer den. Come now, we must move swiftly. We still have far to go before nightfall, and I'll need to find a safe place for you two to rest while I hunt."
"Yes mama," both cubs respond at once. They pick themselves up out of the water and join her at the opposite end of the river. The male cub grumbles to himself as his sister bolts from his side to walk alongside their mother instead. Though he is thankful for the space, her actions leave him feeling bitter.
Farther down the mountain into the South Woods where the trees mix densely with lowland woodland, the mother tigress comes to a halt as a faint scent fills her nostrils. One that is both familiar and yet foreign but makes her stiffen all at once.
"Wait," she whispers to her children, just loud enough for them to hear. Considering their mother's pressing tone, both siblings freeze in place, leaving their ears high and alert. They mimic her actions and sniff the air. Warm wind gathers all around her, approaching from farther south. She inhales deeply at the surrounding air as it wisps past her, the wind hurrying into the trees north as if fleeing. It leaves a bitter taste in her maw. A terrible feeling infests the tigress's thoughts, and despite the scent's lingering presents, it's not faint enough to ease her worry. Her ears perk up at a sound so low she doubts herself ever hearing it at all. The cubs listen hard trying to figure out what it is that their mother is hearing, but neither sibling can distinguish the danger from the ambient sound of the woodland fauna and elements. For all they know, anything could be a threat in a place so foreign to them. When the wind calms, the sound becomes slightly more noticeable to the cubs, yet they don't know what to make of it.
After a moment of being deathly quiet and remaining still, their mother whispers something else to them, "Stay quiet and stay low. Wait for me here."
"Mama, what is it?" The youngest cub whispers back, but her mother ignores her, proceeding ahead towards the strange sound. Both siblings sink into the undergrowth of lush tall grass and heavy brush to wait for their mother's call.
The sound suddenly appears familiar to the mother tigress, and an usual part of her childhood slowly resurfaces as she approaches the sound with even more caution than before. The faintest scent of lingering blood catches in her nostrils as she keeps going towards the sound. She keeps her eyes strained ahead, seeking the underbrush for any movement, for any of the warning signs, anything to indicate the danger lurking farther in. She's heard stories of traps created to trick travelers who didn't heed the warning of their elders. Where groups of hunters and their dogs would use sound to mimic loved ones or simply an infant's cry to lure her kind along with others of the North to a horrible fate. A worse fate came to those taken by the black beasts with blood-red eyes that reeked of decay and mire. A fate her great-grandfather had encountered and never returned according to her mother.
'They craved our pelts and our hearts and left the rest to waste out in the snow so that our departing spirit would become trapped between the realm of the living and the dead. It is why there are so few of us left and so many spirits wandering the North with such anger and torment.'
The tigress reflects on her mothers' words, for at the time she hadn't really understood them until she grew old enough to see them for what they were. Just as every story that had been passed down to her served a strong warning.
The sudden silence that the tigress wasn't aware of before was abruptly shattered by a deep guttural croak. The all too familiar sound startled the tigress out of her thoughts as her eyes locked onto the large black raven who came hurtling through the air overhead only to then disappear from her view in the cluster of trees that looked mangled. More croaks and cawing became raucous as she followed the black creature into a rather open section of woods where the trees indeed looked unnatural. Some were uprooted and slanted with branches torn and leaves tattered or completely gone, smothering all over the saturated soil. Further down the tigress has to climb over and around fallen logs of trees that were completely upheaved from the earth with broken roots, or struck down by the storm in a violent manner. Seeing so many trees laying on the ground only made her more uneasy. She's never seen such devastation to a forest.
When she stumbles upon a crowd of tracks that hadn't all been washed away by the rain, the tigress's concern shifts slightly to being confused. Most resemble hoof prints, but of what kind of prey she isn't sure. Carefully she steps around them with her nose drawn to the ground in case there were any scents left behind. One print by the base of a pale tree appears closer to the paw step of a large dog. Possibly a wolf. She stiffens, heeding her mother's warning. She sniffs the bark around the print intensely to be sure, but the rain did well on keeping the print's secrets hidden. There are deep grooves in the earth that the rain had filled leading in the direction of the infant's cry. Another flash of dark wings dart through the trees, emitting a croaking more dreadful than the last. The tigress pauses. The presence of a blackbird has never been a good omen especially a murder of ravens. Hearing them so near is an evident indication of death, and the louder the murder the fresher the kill. Their awful cawing should always be taken as a warning, especially deep in the Northlands. The tigress remembers another tale involving the crafty tricksters that took the form of ravens, Hugin and Munin, thought and memory. They were the eyes and ears of the first Northern King, a gift from his bride to be. They were said to be daemons just like her, but disappeared shortly after the kingdom of the North fell. It was a rather short tale, and for the life of her she couldn't recall it until hearing their dreadful call.
Torn between instinct and rational thoughts, she contemplates turning back. Her mother's stern words involving old fables try to take hold of her senses, but the desperation heard in the infants cry seems to overpower her fear. She takes a long drag from the air again, tasting the scent of old blood and wet rot once more, only stronger. The tigress decides to follow the trail farther down, convincing herself to overcome her mother's words of caution just long enough to investigate the prints, if not the crying.
Not too far from the collection of prints does the tigress find the remains of a horse and its rider along with a murder of blackbirds lingering over their bodies. More twisted and mangled trees outline the saturated open area where the bodies lie quiet. Suddenly all the mother's fears start to dwindle as she inspects the corpses. Both bodies lie ripped in two, violently stricken by no animal as their flesh lies in the muck scorched and tainted. The smell reeks in her nostrils being up close. They were struck by lightning no doubt, but the tigress has never seen a storm with such fury. The blizzards up North are brutal and can last for months at a time. But lightning was a rare occurrence in the Northlands, but not impossible. And being stuck down by lighting so easily frightens the mother tigress. It seems a most unlucky fate.
More rowdy cawing from her right draws her attention to more blackbirds roosting on another victim of the lightning strike. Their minor talons hobble over a dark and slender wolf laying still in the grass a few paw steps away from where the lightning bolt had touched down. Only its rear end is deteriorated leaving stale crisp flesh on blackened bone. The pitiful thing was still alive after being struck. What a horrible way to die, she ponders grimly. Looking over the wolf's corpse, the tigress finds more prints to fallow. If this were a trap, it's unlike anything she's ever heard of, and the blackbirds haunting toon do nothing but unsettle her. But if there were still danger nearby, the blackbirds would warn her. Using that thought as consolation, the mother tigress lets the trail bring her to the source of the crying.
Another dead horse enters her view with more black-feathered bodies roosting among the fallen. The horse's body rests bowed on a slope, briefly overshadowing the body of an azure tigress lying flat on her side with arrows sticking out in various sections of her flesh. Some smaller blackbirds are resting on the arrow ends looking down. The sight causes the mother tigress to quickly plummet back into the shelter of the scrub and undergrowth, sending a flock of black wings to take into the skies. Their quick escape is short-lived as a wave of black bodies returns to the ground overshadowing the fallen gloomily. But when the infant's cry calls out again, attracting the attention of a large, aged raven who bounces over the azure's corpse, the tigress hesitantly steps out from the safety of the brush.
This time the tigress takes notice of the wounds on both prey and beast being made by both animal and man. Gradually she moves nearer to the azure's body, only glimpsing the tigress from her backside while eyeing the old bird as it maneuvers between where the arrows had punctured flesh towards the head. Black glossy eyes glance up at the tigress watching and puffing up its wings in a threatening display before its horrible screech fills the tigress's ears. The sound causes her ears to flatten as she growls at the bird that takes flight. She watches it land on the shoulder blade of the horse, seeming determined not to stray too far. The tigress growls out her annoyance through clenched teeth as she takes a paw step around the body until the full view of the azure's front side is facing her. A small bundle of azure fur moves beneath the fallen one's throat. The tigress's heart flutters as her muscles tense. A cub no smaller than her paw cries out in a long dry tune full of sorrow and desperation.
Without realizing her actions, the tigress falls to a crouch, leaving her claws embedded in the mud. Her eyes fixate broadly on the small azure cub with a mixture of emotions. Her harsh teeth poke out under her lips in a voiceless growl, contemplating whether or not to devour the helpless cub. And then eyes as soft and inviting peek out from beneath the throat of the fallen one. A vast ocean of blue hues shimmering together like crystal droplets under the sun's light in its weeping gaze. At that moment the cub stops crying and stares at the mother tigress, lacking any fear yet so full of sorrow. Her teeth slip back beneath her lips, her claws no longer clutching the ground, and her muscles began to relax. Slowly but surely, the small cub squirms out from beneath the fallen one's throat and without stumbling, walks up to the mother tigress. Immediately she stands to her full height only to step back, but the cub never slows. No fear, she mulls over in her head. A brave one at that, she adds. Slowly she slumps her shoulders and sighs as the cub leans into her wrist. And another mouth to feed, which means more energy to burn, she reminds herself.
And then his voice pools into her thoughts easing her fears and soothing her senses. 'Is it not the law of the North to remain kind to those who are helpless? The land here is cruel enough, so why must we be cruel to one another?'
The tigress closes her eyes, letting his words bring sense into her clouded mind. As she brings herself to open her eyes again, and sets her sights back on the azure cub, a feeling of warmth blooms from within her chest from both the thought of her cub's father and the lost cub looking back at her.
The corners of her lips tug, hinting at a smile as the cub cries out again. Her small winter paws reach up to grasp at her legs in need. This time the mother tigress reacts differently.
Her voice is kind as she leans down closer. "Shh, shh, it's okay little one," she whispers on her tongue. Her maw extends gradually around the cub's slim body, and with care, she picks the cub up. With a final glance at the blackbirds behind her who've gone strangely quiet, the tigress leaves to fetch her young.
~
"It's so… so weird looking."
"She, Ayn'jièlah, not it," The tigress corrects in between washing the small cub with her tongue. Once fully clean, the mother tigress holds her head high to look down at the cub resting between her paw pads.
Her kind has always been blessed with elegant colors but never has the tigress beheld a creature with fur such as hers. Not even in her mother's fables, but they were all Northern tales. All natives to the Northlands are born in shades of grey, bone to pale blue-white or dark silvery ash. The few who have been blessed with rare pelt colors only last throughout the summer solstice, before shedding their brilliant colors for pelts best suited for winter. Even still, vibrant colors in a Northern born are so rare it's become more of a myth. And for good reason. It's why the mother tigress's kin have been so careful traveling from the Northlands through the Forbidden Mountains to the secret haven for over several decades. Certainly, the cub is not of Northern descent, but the tigress does wonder why the azure tigress had been running with her infant so close to the North Lands. It was clear she was being hunted, but why travel to the North? Was she seeking salvation from a kingdom abandoned in the ice and snow? Her cub would have never survived the journey through the Forbidden Mountains if she made it past the Wolf Woods. She would have had better luck traveling further south. What was she thinking?
The mother tigress lingers down at the child's face. Her eyes remain closed as sleep overtook the cub hours ago. The summer solstice lasts for three months before the onset of the autumn equinox. By that time she would have to return to the Northlands with her young who will be close to ten months by then once the first leaf falls to the ground. That isn't enough time for an infant to grow.
"Well," Ayn'jièlah beginnings, interrupting the mother's troubling thoughts, "she is still weird looking."
The tigress finds her daughter peering over her massive shoulder, staring down at the cub with a curious gaze. She makes a soft grunt to agree with her child. Even if the cub wasn't of Northern descent, something about her felt abnormal. The cub's fur coloration is hues of vibrant blue that match her eyes, with raven-colored stripes, the markings of a tiger no doubt. But something about her is captivating, reminding the tigress of how beautiful her mother's pelt once was.
"An oddness in a group of greys only makes that one unique. And sometimes being different is a good thing. Besides, I favor those who are unique over those who are bleak and act the same."
"Am I unique?" Ayn'jièlah blurts out merely seconds after the mother finishes her train of thought. The tigress chuckles softly and nods.
"Of course you are, child, you and your brother both. You came from a long heritage of fearsome and extraordinary kin after all." She smiles, and then her gaze drifts to her daughter's odd cloudy blue eyes. They have always reminded her of her deceased mate. Both Ayn'jièlah and her father have the same unique eyes, the same green tint on the left as if they were an exact copy. She also has inherited his memorable personality, having a bright heart to do what is right, and courage. Her sense of joy and lust for adventure and play reminds the tigress of him every waking moment. Her son, Dæv'yièl, shares some of his features as well, but he has inherited his grandmother's striking eyes and her very protective nature. With the loss of her mother and mate, life has been a struggle for the mother tigress, but the birth of her children healed what remained of her broken heart. And perhaps this lost weepful cub will restore the missing pieces.
Ayn'jièlah appears joyous at the thought of having a little sister, but the tigress can feel that her son is conflicted as he keeps his distance from them both. He is resting several paw steps away, silently listing to the conversation without much interaction.
"What are we going to do with her mama? She's too small to survive all on her own. Can we keep her? Oh please, mama?" Ayn'jièlah asks in a pleading tone.
Dæv'yièl rolls his eyes. He always finds his sister's begging to be annoying. In his mind, she has become more of a pest of habit who never listens to him.
"Well," the tigress says after gathering her thoughts, "she is rather young, too young to be left alone in a den..." her words trail off a bit at the thought before Ayn'jièlah paws in.
"We could watch her while you go on hunts mama! Brother and I are old enough to be left alone."
"And what will she eat if not milk? She is far too small to eat raw meat."
"I can chew her food for her!" Ayn'jièlah adds quickly giving her mother a profound grin. "She'll be strong enough for it, mama. I promise."
"You can't guaranty a promise with an unclear end, my love," she sighs deeply while looking down at the azure cub and continues, "but, if we are to raise her to be strong, Ayn'jièlah, then you must promise me to take responsibility if she is to survive."
"Does this mean I have a baby sister?"
The tigress smiles softly, "Only if you will be brave for her, then yes, I suppose it does." Their mother replies with her eyes still on the child wrapped in her paws. The gentle rhythmic movement of her chest rising and falling reminds the mother tigress of the very first time she held her newborns. They were so small and fragile that she feared the slightest touch could shatter them into pieces. She feared a lot of things could happen to them and that she wouldn't be ready to face those fears or be the mother they needed her to be. They've grown so much in just a short season, and it's been challenging being without her mate or mother to help raise them, but somehow looking down at this blue cub makes her believe everything will be alright again. She feels ready this time to raise such a fragile-looking infant and to be what a mother needs to be. Brave.
"Yay!" Ayn'jièlah roars in excitement nearly startling the mother from her thoughts. She hastily hushes her daughter, not wanting Ayn'jièlah to startle the poor cub out of her slumber.
"Sorry, mama." The young cub murmurs and then turns to her brother with a grin.
"We have a little sister big brother! And I'm a big sister, like how you are a big brother to me!"
Ayn'jièlah can't help but shriek again happily, but her brother does not feel the same way as his eyes do not reflect her joy. Instead, Dæv'yièl's gaze holds uncertainty, rejection, a deeply rooted irritation already from his sister, and perhaps even jealousy from the blue cub being held in his mother's paws. He does not look upon the blue cub with a feeling of family. Whatever the emotion is, he knows deep down his feelings for the cub are negative.
"Ayn'jièlah," Her mother's tone hardens from sweet honey nectar to stiff cold tree sap as she eyes her daughter.
Ayn'jièlah adjusts herself and sits down beside her mother. In doing so she keeps a soft smile while still holding onto the excitement of a new sister in her thoughts, "Right, hush down for baby sister."
Her mother's sweet smile returns, "Good girl."
After a moment of silence from the family of tigers, Ayn'jièlah asks her mother a question.
"Can I name her mama?"
"And what would you call her?" The tigress responds curiously.
The young cub thinks for a moment then gasps, "Oh! I want to call her Little Blue Fur." She giggles, "Or maybe Fluffy because she's so fluffy. Or-or Tiny because she's so tiny, or-,"
Her mother cuts her off with a soft laugh, "Settle, child, before you wake her and the forest. As wonderful as all those names sound, how about you let me name her and you can give her another name?"
"Like a second name?"
She nods, "Like a second name."
Ayn'jièlah smiles widely, "I will call her Little Blue Fur, or Blue for short because of the color of her fur and her smallness. Is that a good nickname mama?"
"It is surely unique," the tigress smiles before thinking to herself for a moment, "and I will call her…Cry'stel for the weeping behind her beautiful gaze, as they reflect the most purity of souls in waters so vast and more beautiful than I have ever seen up North. They sing a song of sorrow unlike any other that makes even the most terrible of beasts halt at her stare."
The azure cub's eyes are the color of gleaming rainwater under the pulse of blue lightning. As if little rain droplets lay closely on a smooth crystal mirror reflecting the lightning-glowing bright blue hues just beneath the surface leaving darker shades to linger at the border of her iris. It could very well be the entire ocean battling a storm within her eyes.
Ayn'jièlah giggles madly and rolls over onto her back unable to contain the laughter erupting from her chest, "That's a weird name." Once she is calm enough to speak, she smiles with approval down at the little blue cub, "I love it!"
The tigress laughs and shakes her head, causing Ayn'jièlah to giggle even more.
Finally, Ayn'jièlah lets out a long yawn as sleep begins creeping in. She mumbles and makes herself comfortable beside her mother, "I love my little sister already."
The mother looks at her daughter warmly, and then at her son who had already shut his eyes. Peering back down at the cub curled up in her paws, she smiles, whispering soft words, "I love her too."
A rustle in the brush nearby causes the mother tigress to tense. She emits a low growl as she gradually goes to take an aggressive stance. Without having to be told, both siblings retreat behind their mother in a parallel stooping posture with the azure cub beneath her new sister.
A rasping voice speaks lowly after the rustling ceases, "Please, we are no threat to you and your cubs. We are seeking a safe passage through the mountains to the haven."
The mother tigress keeps her posture low and steady, "Step out from your cover if you wish to speak to me directly."
Two wolves as pale as moonlight step out from the shadows of the undergrowth with three cubs of their own trailing warily at their heels. Their little heads are hanging low with ears lain flat across the nap of their skulls. Another smaller cub remains limp in the leaner wolf's jaws. Both pairs are thin, and their cubs are all skin and bone. Faint gray stripes line the flank and shoulder blades of the broader wolf's body while the leaner wolf has silvery stripes darkening closer to her frayed face resting lowly towards the earth with ears kept back. Deep wounds not long healed stem from her left cheek, along her throat, and wrap around her stomach and spine as if she had escaped ensnarement.
"Who are you?" The tigress asks in a softer tone, surprising both her children.
"I am Sayda, and this is my sister Yùrlynn," the broad wolf speaks in the same rasping voice from before.
"We came from the Northlands escaping from a sickness that overtook our pack. Our overseer, a child of the daemon Nadezhda, is the one who spared our lives by leading us here. He told us we would find refuge in the valley between the Eastern Mountains facing the Silver Sea where the sickness could not reach us. Please, my sister has already lost two of her cubs. We just need a place to rest."
The tigress relaxes her stance and looks over the group of stripped wolves with pity, "you said you came from the Northlands? Are you both from MoonGria?"
Sayda gives her a soft nod, "We have…well had a territory established deeper in the Blue Pines along the mountainside. Do you know of it?"
"I am familiar with those woods," the tigress sighs. Adjusting her posture, she sits down and motions her cubs to relax. After eyeing the azure cub, a thought crosses her path that could work in her favor.
Turning back to the stripped wolves, she asks, "Is your sister still able to nurse?"
Sayda glances at her sister with a worrisome stare, "Prey hasn't been in our favor for some time, but if she could eat well and rest for a few days, she should be able to start feeding her young again."
"And If I provide enough prey for the both of you and my own, would your sister be willing to offer some of her milk for my youngest cub in exchange for safe passage to the haven?"
A moment of shock crosses over Sayda's face, along with her sister whose ears perk slightly as they glance at one another. With body movements only Sayda seems to understand, she responds for Yùrlynn, "She will try her best to feed your young, but you must understand that her cubs come first, what remains of them..."
"I understand. You may rest here with us tonight. Tomorrow as the sun starts to rise, I will hunt before we continue heading east."