Someway, somehow, Kisla had the grace to let her into the Hearthwood even with her own admittance. Nightingale did not want to be a liar; she could not commit herself for life as she so typically might given the circumstances, silly and {so far} fruitless though they were. There was a thought that perhaps that was why Kisla had let her in at all; that anything real might come of these dreams was surely absurd. But the songbird thought then of @Iopah and of the memory she had unknowingly brought back. Nothing to do with whoever Kite was. Surely that was truly a mistake. The songbird had many unique features that did put her apart from other agouti wolves but from the first instant, all seemed to be the same. The kind Timber woman was blameless; she made her fair share of mistakes before noticing, in identifying someone. No one time less embarrassing than the next.

Her ears swiveled atop her head. Her new alpha female (new to her, anyway) had informed her of the going ons of the pack; she co-led with Kjors, who she would be sure to meet, of the present members, and then some. And after all of this intel, the songbird decided that the first thing she would do is seek @Inna as soon as she arrived. If anyone else met her first, she wouldn't object; she simply thought she ought to thank her friend for speaking on her behalf at all and letting her know she had taken the offer sooner than anticipated. It couldn't hurt, could it? And she could assist this pack in the process. She couldn't recall if any had taken the scout role yet, but if not? Nightingale would make it her own in her ventures. The tawny songbird was presently on the trail of her friend, tail waving eagerly behind her. It was late evening, now; by nightfall, she would go check out the rendezvous den for any activity there. Nightingale would prove that she, while a part of the Hearthwood, took the arm given by Kisla with no goal to be lazy all the while. No, she intended to implement herself.

Nightingale sniffed and followed the vague trail, but Inna had thoroughly walked through the entirety of the Hearthwood. It was difficult to pick up the proper one. It was only when she heard the light plod of footsteps that Nightingale discovered at the least she had been on the right track, and then moments later young Inna emerged from the Hearthwood. Nightingale curved around a tree and greeted her friend eagerly, tail beating against her sides; dust and dirt alike came out from it in billows. An ecstatic yip was released by the woman who knew little of concealing her truest emotions. It went without saying that she had quite enjoyed Inna's company, and was happy to have found it again. The songbird owed the girl a lot, she felt.



Inna spoke first, and the songbird darted 'round her and came to stand beside her, tail still waving but more loosely. Yeah, I was surprised, too. But I met your mother, and she was kind and open. I figure I can still scout around and provide for myself and others in the process, it was the smarter route, come to think of it. And—in her earliest days here—she considered very much so becoming a scout in some capacity. She was made for running; maybe she could deliver a message, or get to know the packs around the area and what still remained for her leader. It didn't matter; she would figure out a way to help the pack while helping herself, too. She was determined to. Wanna show me around? she asked with a tilt of her head, grinning. Now that she was here, why not get to know the place from someone who was born of it, just as the trees here had been?

The songbird had no trouble believing the others words. Not when she had spoken to the woman herself and knew of her values, and the values she would instill on the pack. Nightingale found it inspiring. And she understood moreso now why Inna was quite so brilliant as she thought she was. While Inna was undoubtedly her own woman, the influence of someone as remarkable as she imagined Kisla to be must have surely left its mark. Nightingale could not help but build up those who had taken her in and sheltered her, holding them in high esteem. While the latter part she was unsure of, she didn't see how it could hurt if her leader gave her the freedom to do as she desired, in essence. That in itself had the songbird intending to pull her own weight, and then some.


Nightingale was delighted when the other agreed to a tour. Who knew it better, than someone who had been raised here? Who would know its secrets as much as the inky shadow before her? And Nightingale was eager to know them all, for the land was beautiful and at some point in her days she had learned to appreciate it. She moved alongside her companion, who knew her secrets, and she hummed. Nightingale had shared much with Inna, and would continue to do so; she favored the girl, who she did not doubt for a moment had a good heart within her. Are the others as good as you, and your mother? Nightingale asked at length, wanting to know. She had been informed of the going-ons, and also informed of the individuals within their pack. The songbird had a mind to seek the medic, but would not, knowing his current preoccupation. That was more important than her mind. Her mind could wait. The bird hadn't any idea that others waited on her, and her mind, to return to her; she hadn't any idea that she would be on the mind of any but the Caldera. Nightingale doubted, with a leader such as Kisla, there was a wolf with a bad bone in their body here; but then, she believed the best in all.

As they walked along, Nightingale was sure to take note of her surroundings and of the scents here. Packmates had surely passed through the area, and her ears swiveled to listen to the world around them as they moved. Nightingale was happy to be here, she realized. The River wolves offered her much. Companionship, protection, food, and then some. The songbird hadn't known what she desired more than finding out the truth of her dreams or, if nothing else, something of substance that would prove her right. If there was one thing the woman could not abide by, it was being entirely wrong; it would especially wound her to be wrong in the matter of her dreams because of what she had done due to them. Others were openminded to it, but the songbird saw it as a transgression. She had done what Kisla had prohibited her from doing: left without a word. Of course, it was different. Kisla did not clip her wings. There was no reason to run away without a word. Things were infinitely better here already.


As Inna answered, one ear turned in her direction. Nightingale continued to pad along, intrigued and wanting to know more. Certainly one specific wolf might have caused her tentative response, but the songbird wouldn't press her. Lo and behold, the daughter of Kisla clarified. Inna still did not know some here. She was sure the other would get the chance to, as surely as she would. Truly it was a goal of hers. Gotcha, Nightingale responded, nodding her head. The she-wolf did not mind figuring things out for herself, in any case. I forgot to thank you, actually, for even talking to your mother about me. I'm sure your good review helped me plenty, the songbird breathed, tail waving. Where we headed, anyway? The scenery had not yet changed; they weaved through and around trees, and in the distance Nightingale heard the distant hum of the river.

The others humble response made the she-wolf smile. It was everything, to her at least... but there was little use in inflating the others ego. And that thought was not a personal one; the songbird had seen arrogance, was all, and hoped to keep such a state of mind away from Inna. In some circumstances the songbird could deal with it, in its lesser extent, which was nothing but pride. But when one turned pride into a knife and jabbed with it? That was arrogance. Tiny pinpricks was all it dealt, but it still bled and was more than a nuisance. The songbird was one big no judgment zone for the most part, but did have some pet peeves.



In any case, Nightingale agreed compliantly with Inna. The dark cub knew her mother better than she did, after all. She's very open-minded. I will... I hope to always remember it. the songbird knew better than to make promises about her memory. Not after she had lost it all, out of... well, due to a bear. Gale was glad she could function and live with others, but wondered at the small things that mattered to her that she had lost. For instance: her mother. Only one memory she had of the woman, but that was all. As far as any other family member went? There was only The Caldera, as they themselves had told her. Had they mentioned her mother? She thought they might have... it did not coincide with her memory, but, well, what did she truly know?

Nothing.


The songbird caught wind of rabbits, or perhaps just one, but her interest for the moment was nonexistent in it. She would track it later; her time was devoted to where they were headed. Lavender Ethos, her companion had said. Sounds beautiful, Nightingale thought aloud, and turned to her friend. If she was holding something back the songbird could not say; she did not know Inna well enough. So her tail waved, and her ears perked. Lavender. I love the smell of it. If she had any bit of her memory, she would know that once it was embedded in her furs, the scent of it, as much a part of her as her beating heart. The thought of the herb warmed her inexplicably, and she was happy.