When he wasn’t spending his time hidden beneath the canopy of branches in the Kingswood, Lachesis was stretching his legs out in the tundra. The expanse reminded him of his birthplace, in the land far north of the Lore. While he had no plans on returning to the reserve he still missed the tundra that had birthed him… even if he spent the first year of his life behind a fence.

His tattooed ear twitched at the memory and XIX quickly dismissed the thought. Continuing forward, he treaded lightly across the snow, looking for nothing in particular. Whatever attracted his attention first he would pursue, whether it be a meal (for the pack) or a herb to add to his inventory. The snow was starting to melt, slowly but surely, which meant more plants would begin to sprout through the thawed ground. Even though puppies seemed unlikely for the river pack, Lachesis liked being prepared—for both Hearthwood and the neighbouring packs.

With the monadnock in the distance, XIX continued forward, his toes crunching between the snow. A flash of creamy fur caught his attention in the distance, causing his pace to quicken. While he was disappointed to discover that the figure did not belong to a loner, he was pleased to see that it was a Whitestone wolf. He barked a greeting at the muddy-eyed female, his brows knitted together as he studied her from afar. “Need some help?” He called out to her, his movement halted as he waited for a response. If the girl did not need anything from him he would leave and continue prowling for something to bring back to Kingsfall. 

His ears perked once she answered his question, head tilting slightly to the side. Fortunately he did not have to ask what it was she needed help with, as more words rolled off her tongue as she began to explain her response. The corners of his mouth fell at the description and the healer shook his head solemnly. “Unfortunately I have not,” he started, his shoulders sagging. Aside from Morganna, who he had finally met just a few days before this encounter, he had not seen any dark-furred wolves lurking about the lowlands. His curiosity peaked despite the frown that was still etched across his pale features. “Is there a reason why you are looking for them?” By her tone, and the expression she wore, it did not like a good reason.

Was this wolf a former Whitestone member, or had they done something to the pack? Perhaps they were a friend of the pale female, or just someone she was hoping to run into. No matter the reason, Lachesis at least wanted to help the Whitestone wolf find the individual she was looking for. Or try to. Their packs were on good terms, after all. “I can help you look, if you’d like? Do you have an idea of where they might have gone?” 

A frown tugged at his lips as she spoke, explaining the reason behind her search for the dark wolf. One of their own—a cub—had been attacked. That could have been a river wolf or could have been his own children. The frown he wore deepened at the thought. He wished he could be of more help to the yellow-eyed girl and the rest of the Whitestone wolves. Truthfully he hoped that the dark wolf in question had fled the lands of Relic Lore, although the idea of Whitestone seeking retribution was much more satisfying. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for them and let the rest of my pack know,” he responded after a lengthy pause as he offered the pale girl a friendly smile. “Is the child okay?” He asked, his tone hopeful as he studied the pale wolf before him. XIX did not want the same wolf to come after one of his packmates.

However, like Piety soon mentioned, it would be foolish for the assailant to remain in the north. After infuriating a pack the size of Whitestone the best option for the scarred wolf was to venture south, for the forests there would swallow them up; erasing them. “Lachesis Stark,” he introduced with a soft wag of his tail, his head falling slightly to the left. “Do you know where the wolf was last seen?” If the attacker had decided to stay in Lore there were plenty of places for them to hide—more wolves to attack—but there was an origin point where they could potentially find a trail to follow. If the snow had not covered most of it up… 

A soft smile stretched across his pale features as she responded, stating that the youth had been in good paws after the unexpected attack. Lorcán. The ghost was glad that the Whitestone wolves had a capable healer among them. Otherwise their conversation would have taken a different turn.

“I’m happy to hear that he's doing well,” he admitted with a slow wag of his tail, chartreuse gaze fixated on the one-eared wolf. However, the relief was short-lived as Piety announced that the attack must have occurred close to the monadnock due to the freshness of the injury. A grimace appeared, his brows narrowed. “I’m sure something will turn up,” he offered, although the frown did not leave his pale maw. “I’ll be sure to tell my scouts so they can keep an eye out as well.” The more wolves looking the better. Especially since the assailant could be a threat to the Hearthwood wolves as well.

He shook his head at her words, his shoulders rolling into a soft shrug as he dismissed her offer. “Our packs are on good terms, Piety, you don’t need to repay me.” There was nothing the river wolves needed from Whitestone. Lachesis just wanted to see the wolf that attacked the boy dealt with so he did not repeat his actions. The lowlands were a large place, but if the river wolves helped look the ghost was certain they would find the pale rogue.