The mountains had been quiet indeed. Even with the few that crossed and their rather excitable neighbors, Fate's Summit was naught but tranquil. For a wolf who had once been plunged into chaos, it felt strange to exist in such silence. By now it was more than a bit disappointing to the queen that their numbers had not multiplied. She could be patient, but now the air felt stagnant. She had yet to investigate the threats that laid to the southern forests, deciding it was not worth her time or Vanderfell's lack of protection.
Quicksilver too journeyed out, where to she was uncertain. He had left with a call, though the reasoning behind it trailed on the winds behind him. He would be back, that much was made clear, and she could question him then. Ira couldn't say she was exactly pleased with his departure, not when that left only a handful left to defend what was theirs. With spring in bloom and summer on its way, Ullarcraig would only become more tantalizing to travelers or perhaps even packs. For now, she would have to hope Elysium would stick to their word.
As the day passed and the rays of the sun broke the clouds above, parting way to the blue they hid, Ira traveled up past her sleeping chambers. She knew of the peaks that spearheaded the skies, though most of the time they had been lost in the heavens today was clear, and the land below sprawled out like a time-worn map. One cliff, in particular, was wide, almost slab-like and as she peered over the edge she was almost certain she could make out the lake at which their neighbors decided to settle. The respite.
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