Something was off, she could just feel it in the air. It was enough that young Narime' was missing to send the maternal old wolf pacing back and forth from one end of Willow Ridge to another, calling out and hearing nothing back from the girl. Days had passed without news of the yearling, and Skana finally broke down and ventured outside the protection of Willow Ridge's territory. It wasn't fear of anything outside of the Ridge lands that kept her rooted there, the old battle axe feared no one, but rather the fear that her rickety limbs would give out on her again. She was lucky Phineas had found her that time, but she was careful to not twist the arthritic ankle again with snow and ice coating the ground.

With a subtle limb in her gait the big wolf ambled her way North. It was as good a guess as any, with Narime's scent faded from their home and no trails to go by. The place she found herself in was odd, the history of a fire marked in dark charcoal against the trees. She didn't believe in ghosts, but found the grey-tipped hairs along the back of her neck standing up as if she could sense something here. A curious chimeric scent, the blood and decay of several creatures, blew through the charred trees towards her, shaking the forest like rattling bones.

Skana's nostrils flared and her lip curled upwards in disgust as she approached the stinking pile. It was too much of a stretch to imagine chance had brought all this offal together. It would have been nice to pretend it was some poor-man's snack, saved for later. It couldn't be, too open, too exposed for a cache, meaning all of this was meant to be seen. And see it Skana did, the chill air seeping deep into her bones as her good eye set upon the agonized face of the raccoon. The evidence of that disease was clear on it's stiff expression, and Skana recoiled back a few paces. She did not know if it was a beacon, a shrine, or a warning, but whatever it signified, it could be nothing good. They needed to find Narime', and fast, before the young, naive wolf ran into the trouble that was brewing. Unless it was already too late.

Even though the sudden appearance of the black wolf startled her somewhat, Skana turned slowly, appearing unperturbed on the surface. With her usual dignity her brown tail arched slightly upwards behind her, not overtly aggressive but signalling she wasn't entirely friendly either. He'd managed to get quite close without her notice, and the entire grisly situation left her on edge. Her amber eyes flicked over his low-slung stature, finding it satisfactory though she kept her eyes trained on his, as if she might hold him in place simply by her gaze alone. She wondered of the possibility of his connection or knowledge with the 'shrine', but his small stutter sold him as an unassuming man with no hand in this. With no distinct pack scent she grouped him as one of the many loners in the land.

At his question, her eyes momentarily left his flicking ones to glance at the pile of trash, a low grumble as she considered it again. With a flick of her tail, she turned her head back to him and fixed the rogue back in her hazy stare. "Nothing good. Some little miscreant trying to be funny," She snorted. "I suppose you wouldn't know anything about this, would you?" She asked with narrowed eyes and a stern turn to her lips. She didn't expect him to know much, after all, he wouldn't have asked the question. She mostly just wanted the satisfaction of seeing the timid wolf squirm. If she were lucky, maybe he would have seen the culprit at the least.