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We still kill the old way
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Cercelee had heard the call but instead of answering rolled over and shut her eyes again. Holed up in one of the homes in Berwick, the warm nest of discarded rags and blankets she had made for herself was more appealing than the morning air. Sleep however did not come back, and after moments more of trying to reclaim it, Cercelee rose and stretched out her limbs. There was no rush for Cercelee, she knew it would take long enough for the others to answer the call… perhaps for once she would be the last. Counting by the human’s calendar a new year was dawning and Cercelee knew that the first day of a new year was her birthday. Two years old, so young, and yet she was still leading. They hadn’t resisted her youth yet and now she felt, two was at least a reasonable age, though she felt as if she were decades older.
Breaking into the clearing navy eyes took in everyone who had shown to her surprise two unknown faces greeted her: a child and a new male, one who smelt of Mew. Yet Mew was not present, and Cercelee noted that their hunter, Slay, had also failed to come before her. "Hello." Cercelee nodded at the two unfamiliar wolves and then turned to look over those she did know. Firefly, her belly bloated and round, Flayra, old enough for a hunt but not old enough that Cer didn’t have to worry about a stray hoof kicking at the girl’s head. Then there was Cwmfen, Haku and herself. They could pull the hunt off, but the four able bodied adults would have to keep an eye on two pups and a pregnant women. Cer merely offered a nod to Haku then, waiting for direction from her sub-leader.
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