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OuO Is it daytime?
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Cwmfen had not seen much of Svara since the incident with the dog (she had not bothered to learn his name yet) and with the Rosea’s discover of the incident regarding Svara’s injury. But she had trusted that the girl was well off. It would be good, the warrior thought, if the girl was permitted to explore the limitations of her own mind before anyone were to intervene. The mind was strange that way. If pampered too much, it would be confined by the limitations that were simply perceived. But, left to its own devices, the mind was capable of much more—so much more. She had seen and experienced such wonders of the mind, and she knew that there was nothing more powerful. That was why control was so crucial. And that was why she believed this to be an important stage in the process of healing, more so than the physical healing itself. It may be a difficult time for the girl, but the warrior always believed that what did not kill you made you stronger. And with Svara’s strong will, she knew that in the end things would be fine.
The warrior had been occupied with many things. It seemed that after taking the position of Adonis, life had become a little busier. But the warrior welcomed such things. She felt, however, that, especially after her attack, she had not been there as much as she could, and this bothered the warrior a bit. Yet, she had had the time to meet up with several pack members that she had not met before. And such trust had been made that she had been approached by Kol Stormbringer and Alexey Koios concerning an attack. Kol had been greatly injured, and Cwmfen knew who had done it. Brennt. It was the same large male that had attacked her because she had rejected his efforts to mount her. And now he had caused trouble yet again with the Stormbringer woman. This was very displeasing to the female, and so she would find him. But for now, the female returned to her den for the first time in a while. It was probably best if she did not enter it for another week to allow her wounds to finish the process of healing. Then she would move back in, and perhaps she would shift.
The warrior’s step was light as she moved through the trees with that fluid ease. Her gait was nearly as it once was, a swift trot that carried her with the silence of a killer and scarcely a whisper of a passing. The white orbs were alert as she trailed abreast the flow if the creek the flowed past her den as she retraced the familiar path and lands of Dahlia de Mai. The Raven flew above her, calling ever once in a while with a strangely soothing tone. Lately, it had trailed her closely, as if the incident of her attack had made it wary. But the bird would disappear for several hours before it would return. While such habits should not be disturbing, for the bird was free to do as he pleased, it was a new habit for the Raven to be undertaking. And with animals, novelties were to be a sign of warning. But the warrior could not find any reason to suspect anything other than that things were normal. As her den came into view, the tireless female slowed to a gradual stop, and she knelt at the den’s mouth, smelling the familiar scent of the younger wolf. "Svara?" the warrior called, her alto melody soft. And she did not ask if she was fine, for such questions were useless. But perhaps today she could simply speak with the girl for the simple reason of conversing.
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