So the lady of the Ridge had accepted her into the pack.

That was good, it was what she'd asked for after all. Lana was a little more comfortable knowing that the group was lead by a sole female, Avella, who seemed both kind and formidable. That was similar to what she'd known back at her home pack. There females always lead too, but the wolves here seemed less uptight than back home, at least. It was familiar and refreshing at once.

Lana wasn't really sure what to do with herself yet, finding herself feeling rather detached. She had no friends or family here, which was not necessarily bad. It was what she'd wanted, right? A fresh start, without baggage. She was welcome to stay the winter, and the woman had been kind enough to offer Lantana stay and make this place her home, assuming all went well. She wasn't sure if she wanted that, yet, but it was something to think upon. To be offered a home without some great obligation of servitude or herculean task was an unfamiliar way of doing things for her. She wasn't sure how to take it and still felt sure there must be some hidden strings attached

Scouting at least was something she was good at. She may as well get to know their borders, become more intimately familiar with the area if she was to be spending her winter months here. For now the willows were golden and the lands welcoming to her footsteps, light morning mists adding an ethereal quality to the woodland. Birds sang from the trees and the misty air shone in the morning light. Warm weather seemed to be struggling valiantly to hold onto the land a little longer.

It wasn't long before she happened upon a scent, but when she did, it was not one she'd been expecting. How could that be here? she wondered. She had to follow it.

Before long she came to a clearing, and sure enough, in the middle, she saw them. Heaped vines of sweet-smelling late season flowers had overtaken a fallen willow tree, creating a large, verdant tangle. Honeysuckle. She had not known it could grow this far north. And yet here it was, this sheltered glade seemingly providing the perfect home for it. Approaching, she sniffed at the flowers gently before plucking one from the vine with her teeth at its base. The blooms were not usual fare for a wolf, but they were as sweet as ambrosia. I wonder if the others know this is here? It seemed too good to be true. Everything seemed too good to be true.