Whitestone Monadnock I still mess up but I'll just start again

Craw had been with her now for almost three seasons, she knew how quickly things could change - one challenge, one misplaced paw. Just as Craw was not convinced the Willows still stood, Morganna was not as convinced as her counterpart that their target would have remained where he was last left. "How many? How far?" While it would be ideal single the man out they had to be prepared for a fight. While their numbers were perfectly sufficient, they had room to grow. Missing the dead weight from her mother's pack was one thing, and at least there was the assurance that these wolves would answer a pack mates call, but she was far from the reckless beast her former pack mates thought her to be.

She was sure the wheels had been in motion for some time already, but that didn't mean there wasn't still work to be done. Perhaps her trip south should be delayed? Or maybe it was more important than ever that she took it while she had the chance. "What still needs ter be done?" She would offer her support however she could, whether that meant asking the right questions or even getting her paws a little dirty herself, he needn't worry where her loyalties lay.

Almost done? <3

The fact that he couldn't answer her questions with utmost confidence was a gut-wrenching thing. Even the matter of how far they would need to travel was a semi-unknown; he had been in a half-dead blur coming south, and all he could remember was hunger and hauling himself forward, one step at a time, for days and days and days... And once all those steps were retraced, who would he find there? His father, unless he was already dead (and as much as he wanted the bastard cold and rotting, Craw so dearly hoped that the old man would hold onto life long enough to let his son do the honours) would still be pissing on the same territory markers. It would be a cold, cold day in hell when Murdoc willingly gave up the land he had painstakingly snatched by the fingertips.

But his current state of ignorance was not the end of it. She was on his side. "I would send Greer or Celandine," he wheezed, glancing north, the cogs turning as he put to words the thoughts which had been brewing inside his skull ever since they came to stop at the monadnock. "They're unknowns and would raise no alarm. I know the landmarks - they'd just have to go north and find them. They would find out who is left, still alive, so I know how many would be required to finish it."

So matter-of-fact - and just saying it was like the first deep breath after wandering in stale air. It felt like all of his nerve-endings were alive and on fire. Just the thought of marching north with cherry-picked Whitestoners at his side was intoxicating. "It would not take long," he promised, reaching down to touch her cheek with his nose, knowing that such a mission would divide the pack - for he was already loathe to relocate them. But there was time for the pack to grow, to gain allies, so that a temporary loss of some of its members was not a death sentence. Craw had made the mistake of pussy-footing around before and paid the price for his slowness. This time around it would be executed with nothing less than militaristic precision.

He could already taste the blood on his tongue.