Geneva Stockholm had much to do within the next few hours. The Savant busied herself primarily by patrolling the borders of Phoenix Valley. She was grateful to find that there had been little disturbance, and she had yet to run into anyone during her midday patrol. She had hoped to see her son, Pripyat, because she knew that he spent much of his time on the outskirts of the Valley pack’s territories, but she had not come across her blue-eyed boy. She supposed that she would probably see him at the ranch in the evening or the next morning, and she was content with that for the time being, although she missed him very much.
Tomorrow would be a strange day for her. The lime green eyed wolfess reflected on the significance of the day yet to come. It would be a day of remembrance, and a day of recalling death. Geneva had seen enough death to keep her from desiring to experience it ever again. Memories of her deceased family weighed upon her mind, but not as heavily as they usually did. She was able to glean some happiness from their memory today, as she dwelt on the good times instead of the bitterness of their endings.
The Savant was in the mood to be in the company of others today. But she could be patient and wait. The quiet wolfess knew that she would see most of her Phoenix Valley brethren tomorrow, since it would be she who would call the pack gathering to order. Jefferson had entrusted this day of celebration with her, and she was determined not to let him down. During her time in the pack, she had quietly noted many of the celebrations that were important to Phoenix Valley and passed them by quietly. This would technically be the first time she would actively participate and have a big hand in doing so.
As the light gray female continued her turn around the borders, she considered where she might want the pack meeting to be held. Typically, Phoenix Valley meetings were held within close proximity of the ranch, where she lived, but that did not seem appropriate to her. She briefly considered Raven Beacon, the lighthouse where she had raised her son for the first few months of his life, but then quickly dismissed the idea. That place was sacred to her, and she was not yet ready to share it with others. She pondered this matter more, following the path of the borders more by habit than by thought at that point.
WC 426