Aside from Drestig’s visit the pale leader had not heard much from the pack south of the monadnock. While XIX knew that Kisla was familiar with the pair leading the newly established pack he was not. Lachesis knew nothing of the raven wolf and his mate; however, he was familiar with the silver spider that led the growing pack in the tundra and the healer wanted to ensure that alliance did not crumble. The ghost remained wary of the Rye wolves, keeping his nose to the ground and his ears perked for any news. Whitestone seemed to be keeping their distance (for now), just like the river wolves, but Lachesis was curious as to whether any undesirable encounters had occurred between the two packs. Craw was not pleased with their arrival and had expressed that during their last meeting. He had told his little sidekick, Inna, to keep an eye on the new pack as well and to report back to him immediately if she heard anything unusual, or interesting.

A call sounded as he skirted the edge of the forest, his slender body weaving through the trees with an eerie, ethereal grace. The voice was not a familiar one, which caused his brows to furrow immediately. A flicker of hope burned in his chest as XIX diverted from his original route, but as he neared the stranger he soon realized that the wolf was cloaked in the same scent that clung to Drestig’s fur. Almost immediately a frown cut across his pale features, his pace quickening as he closed the distance between himself and the Rye wolf. With his head raised slightly the ghost approached the green-eyed female, a brow raised softly as he studied the older wolf. “What brings you to Hearthwood?” He asked once he stopped, chartreuse gaze focused on his guest while he silently hoped that his co-lead was not far behind.

As the blue-eyed sparrow sidled up beside him Lachesis offered her a warm smile in greeting before he returned his attention back to the black and white wolf, his expression painted with curiosity. He had nearly forgotten that Lilya had a history with the green-eyed wolf standing before them until the sparrow greeted their visitor, her words dripping with warmth. His frown was immediately replaced by a small smile as he allowed his gaze to refocus on Jessie as she responded to his co-lead’s question, announcing that their pack was not getting along with their northern neighbours. The ghost was not surprised—Craw’s group on the rock were certainly an intimidating bunch, especially with their numbers continuing to grow. He had been quick to make an alliance with the Whitestone wolves, for he reckoned they were not a pack to get on the wrong side of.

Unfortunately for Jessie and her mate, it appeared that they had gotten on that side. His lips twitched in empathy as the monochrome wolf began explaining the reason behind her visit. “I am sorry to hear that,” Lachesis responded after a brief pause, his tail giving a slow wag behind him. “Thank you for coming to tell us,” he added with a soft nod. They were lucky (so far) not to have any bad encounters with Whitestone wolves, but it appeared the Rye wolves were not as fortunate. He knew that Craw was not fond of their newest members, and had mentioned his disdain toward the pack in their last meeting.

Lachesis had been wary of the new pack prior to their claiming of the fields west. The expanse had been their haven after being forced to vacate their home among the cedars; he did not want to be chased out by another pack. The river wolves had already gone through so much. “Is there anything we can do?” He offered, muzzle canted as he studied the older female. Both the sparrow at his side and the tawny Baranski were fond of Jessie and her mate; there was no reason why Lachesis shouldn’t be, too.