Like many recent mornings, Kirain woke at dawn, wound in the warmth of her husband and children. Laying still, listening to them all breathe peacefully, a small smile found her maw. Eventually, she untangled herself, kissing her mate softly and murmuring that she would return.

Steeling herself, Kirain stepped out into the dreary weather. Snow continued to fall, the wind biting at everything that dared breathe. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, the crisp air sharp and invigorating. Pushing forward through the snow, she wandered the Rise, checking each of the four wards, reestablishing borders, and ensuring pack members were well. It was steady, familiar work, a balm for her worried heart.

Her pace slowed as she neared the standing stones. She often came here to stand among them, to speak quietly to the spirits of the Rise. Typically, she was greeted only by the whistling wind and the crunch of snow beneath her paws.

So when a name carried on the wind, she startled.

Sven?

It was not a name she recognized. Her heart ached at the realization, another lost soul among them. Turning quickly, she hurried toward the sound, until she finally caught sight of its source. He looked deeply distressed, lost in more ways than one, and Kirain braced herself for what she knew would be a difficult conversation.

Carefully stepping closer, she called out softly, Hello? Are you alright? Are you lost? Her voice remained gentle, the questions measured, she didn’t want to overwhelm him.