Travel had not suited the smallest Baranski child well. Before leaving the Cedarwoods she knew she would ache for her memories left behind at Cut Rock River, but the princess hadn’t realized just how dependent she was on the River as a food source. For many moons she had preferentially chosen fish over other protein when visiting the caches, but it wasn’t until the pack’s exodus that it occurred to Karina just how long she had been on a pescetarian diet. While the rest of her family tore voraciously into any fresh kill that a packmate dragged home, Karina could only pretend to eat enthusiastically alongside the rest of the River wolves. In actuality every bite of flesh stuck in her throat and made her stomach churn—how could anyone be expected to eat with the carcass right there, still smelling of the poor creature’s fear pheromones?  Karina imagined she could hear its’ echoing screams of pain as it died, not to mention the cries of the animal’s family, who would no doubt be missing it. The child did not wish to worry her family by rejecting the kills entirely—a behavior so curious that it would surely attract attention—so she continued to feign her eating and bury her disgust.

Karina’s days were long and growing longer as her body weakened from travel and hunger. At the beginning of the migration she would spend long hours searching out  roots, legumes, and berries for consumption, but once Kjors joined the expedition Karina had been unable to devote as much time to foraging for herself.  Her one-eyed companion disliked the company of ranked pack wolves wolves—a constant reminder of his current position—and preferred to travel so far from the crowd that he would be sure to never cross paths with anyone unintentionally. Karina had to devote long hours to sniffing out the swarthy man’s position, and once they found each other their conversations would not tire until nightfall. Though every evening Karina was beyond grateful to quit walking and collapse into slumber, the pup’s empty stomach prevented her from attaining deep, restful sleep. She tossed and turned at night and when the sun’s peak dragged her from her coma in the morning she never felt as if she had slept at all.

This fitful sleep was Karina’s current state; on some level she was aware of her family members stirring about their campsite but it felt dreamlike to her, and she was unable and unwilling to pull herself out of her doze to question what was going on. Soon Orren and Naia would burst energetically into their encampment to rouse her and deliver the good news, and Karina would do her best to feign excitement. Truly she had been ready to settle down half a moon ago, and it baffled her as to what exactly it was her parents were seeking in their new homeland. The Timber Forest had seemed just fine to her as well as the Palisade, and she was on the verge of begging her father to cease their journey as they traveled upon the shores of that giant, picturesque lake.  The primary emotion Karina felt was relief, and she would go about her duties with Lachesis and Amisun in an almost trancelike state, waiting for the sun to rise so the packwolves could stake their claim. True enthusiasm would set in once she arrived at the new densite and discovered the river, a sight and smell that was reminiscent of home but most importantly promised fish.