Ice.

That's all it's been for....

She's lost track, honestly.

Two of her daughters are sick, dying, and she can't do anything about it. Nothing she's trained for has ever prepared her for this, she had been prepared for the possibility of them dying at some point in their lives, from battle, from beasts.

But illness?

It was a slow death, worse still for ones so young, with so much to live for.

And this fucking cold didn't help matters any either.

Torn between wanting to be there for her children, the flailing pack that's in desperate need of bodies, and the general lack of prey, Fiadh's been at her wits end.

The regent was walking on the outskirts of the territory, head down against the blowing wind that sent a chill down even her bones, ears perked and listening for any signs of another creature caught out in this snowstorm.