Mapplethorpe’s tense mood had rubbed off on the tawny leader. Waking with a stiff ache in her hips while the moon was still high in the sky and finding her mate absent from the den yet again, the woman allowed her nose to trail over the sleeping backs of Asphodel and Hemlock before she slowly made her way from the den. As she walked, her nose tipping toward the sky and then back down to the ground until she finally found the scent she sought.
In all honesty, since the blunder of Myrrhis, she had been overly tense herself. The possibility for retribution still lingered and with the absences of both Chulyin and Sagacity they were definitely less than what they had been. Finally movement could be heard ahead and a small smile of relief dared to cross her face. The way he spoke to their children had awoken her own philology and she dared to challenge herself, convinced the cover of night would conceal her embarrassment were she to royally stuff it up. “Amor meus.” She dared to whisper to the darkness.
His restlessness was making her uneasy, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling herself. She longed to feel the rocky safety of the Pass beneath her paws and feel the icy chill of snow touched winds blowing down from the peak of Mount Dire. She wanted to know her children were safe. All of them.