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Cwmfen had spent some time in her den. She was alone, once more in that solitude. For a moment—for many moments—she had thought of another. Her heart grew timid even with the thought, but it fluttered with a quiet excitement. Often such moments had captivated her, especially when she had those moments of solitude in which her mind was permitted to wander into such personal realms. She wondered, and she had wondered often, at the night she had found Onus bleeding to death in the rain, had wondered at his enduring silence even in the face of pain, had wondered at that night when she had realized what it was that drew her to him, what it was that moved her heart. But she was afraid to even think it, afraid to consider what it would mean, and what it would mean if he did not. It was these thoughts that flitted through that usually tranquil mind like the birds of spring.
With a soft sigh, the woad marked fae continued to paw at the earth of her den, seeking to expand the area a bit more. Her body was not troubled by the pain that Brennt had caused upon it, for she was careful in using only her upper torso, able to do such a thing for the understanding that she had for her body.
Satisfied with what she had done, the black she wolf turned in the small, comfortable space that was her home. In this form, it was quite easy to enter and exit the den, and she exited now with minimal discomfort. Her nose dragged on the tunnel’s floor, pushing the stray dirt to the world without. The pile of dirt that now settled before her den was larger than she had anticipated it would be, but the work she had done had been no laborious effort, lessened by her diligence and her wandering mind. For several moments, she flattened the dirt in the corner of one of the roots near the great tree that watched over her den, spreading it for the flowers and plants that may one day sprout there. And for a moment, the white orbs turned toward the heavens, falling upon the great branches of that vigilant tree in silent thanks and appreciation. The warrior, a simple creature, loved this natural world of which she was a part. Once the thanks had been given, the black fae, her body heated with her effort, walked along the stream and toward the Spring.
The acute hearing of the Adonis caught the sound of splashing and excitement that seemed to come from that direction ahead of her. The sounds echoed in her mind more keenly than it did the forest, and the woman’s progress faltered slightly. The warrior was quite content to be alone, and the sounds, as she had learned in the confronting of Catharsis de Sadira, seemed to originate to a pup-sized creature. For a moment, she thought to avoid the area altogether, but it would be necessary, she decided at last, to watch over the one who played in the water. And so, with that innate grace, the black she-wolf padded silently along the water’s edge, hearing the playful laughter of the stream as she passed.
When she arrived, the female was careful not to disturb the efforts of the pup. It was a white one, and one that she had not yet been acquainted with. Her scent was similar to both Catharsis and Avarice, so she decided that this one must also be a pup within the care of the Rosea and the Head Hunter. The male had told her that there were three girls and two boys—she wondered who these male pups were, and wondered whether they got along with the Soul brothers. Silently, the woman lay herself down at the water’s edge, her head crowned in the branches of a bush and her body caressed by the softer, green foliage. For a moment longer the white orbs watched silently as the girl continued to try to catch something, smashing into the water and mud and making filthy her coat. A soft smile graced her jaws as she said, "I hope you don’t kill them." The alto melody danced upon the air as she smiled. At least she could start with some light, intellectual training; she knew that not all of them, if any, would grow to become warriors. And if they were to walk that path, it would be proper to teach them correctly.
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