Reading had become such a pastime for the Italian woman that it was hard to imagine that when she had first come to these lands she had been completely illiterate. Undoubtedly it had been a strange education gap for someone from across the Atlantic—most European canines lived a much more human lifestyle than they even did here in Nova Scotia. Savina's birthpack had been markedly different however. There were many times she regretted having such a narrow upbringing, but at the same time she did appreciate her closer connection to their feral forbears.
She could hear movement out in the hallway, but paid little attention to it. After all, many feet passed through these parts of the manor. However a voice she would always know called out to her and the head of her youngest son poked through the door. Immediately a smile lit up her dark features. Silvano was her only son now that remained in the lands; Gotham had left to find himself after his trials in the war. Mio figlio, she said warmly as he entered. I'm always cold in these damned Nova Scotia winters. I was simply not made for them. As she spoke her hands flew into the air in dramatic exasperation.
How have you been Silvano? She hadn't really gotten to speak to him much since the second raid upon their lands.
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