In the base of the clearing in which the Tianlong wolves had settled, Fen sat beneath the trunk of a yawning wisteria; its blooms reaching out for her shoulders as its petals nestled and fell along her back. A picturesque image, one might’ve thought, as she sat with a straightened posture, her eyes cast forward, and her ears attentively twisted to listen to what was ahead and behind her.

The wind was a careful friend of hers, caressing her sides with a comfort she began to recognize as the safe embrace of a companion. It let her know what lay in that distant horizon, spoke to her in hushed whispers of what lingered beneath the brush, and, in this instance, Fen kept a wary eye on where the Egyptian entourage might be lurking.

Certainly not here, among the Tianlong wolves, but Fen’s guard remained up. Who knew what that group was capable of, with how hot they had come in when her family had reached the shoreline… She didn’t like them. Didn’t feel safe with them.

A mossy green stare shifted toward the sound of her father’s voice. Had he felt it too? The Wisteria Isles, despite their beauty, just did not seem right for them.

She listened with an attentive ear, curved toward his words as he explained what Ruan had found—a mountain—tall, untouched, and most importantly, a place that could be all theirs. Her spirits lifted at the thought, and though a part of her would miss the beautiful petals of violet that swam in the air like the fish in the sea, Fen was ready to leave.

And she blamed the Egyptians.

When the rest of her father’s words had tapered off within the wind, Fen waited for the masses to raise their voice first, before her own. And when she felt as if a comfortable time had passed, she offered her thoughts with a docile dip of her crown, The isle is pretty, yet I, for one, am ready to find a place that speaks to the heart and soul of Tianlong Dynasty. She offered, This mountain sounds promising.