She woke to the light strumming of rain and sighed in relief. The heat had been driving her to exasperation. Too hot to hunt, too hot to be hungry even. It made some wolves sleepy and some restless. Unitas was of the restless variety, and Iopah had had to give him a guided only a few days ago just to keep him occupied. Now with the rain falling in a light mist he would be tucked away safe in the den, the child hated rain. Today at least, she wouldn't have to keep tabs on the pup. She rose gracefully and let the rain cascade over her coat, washing away the dirt and dust. She slipped through the thicket, reassured by the quiet sounds of her packmates stirring. The border was already occupied and she nodded a silent greeting to Mirren as she passed.

Reaching the meadow she paused, taking a moment to savor the fruity dampness of the cherry orchard. Some of the fruit was beginning to rot, and while it was disgusting to walk through, the scent was intriguing. They smelt much better than they tasted. Today the smell was subdued by the rain, and she dropped her pale muzzle into the long grass, her whiskers flicking over a softening ruby globe.

Her sensitive nose caught a trace of something else. Nose to ground still, she stepped forward following the trace of the wolf. Her head went up and her features schooled themselves. Her tail drifted up imposing, though the effect was marred by the water that slicked her coat against her sleek form. She barked roughly and pressed farther into the orchard.

The ground was littered with cherries brought down by the birds and the subsiding rain. It was a veritable minefield. She did the best she could in making her way. Weaving and picking her way along toward the scent. Every step being given careful consideration before slipping an ivory foot into the grasses. She was the wrong color to be careless here. By no means was she a vain wolf, but there was something demeaning about meeting a strange wolf while stained the attractive color of rotting cherries. She'd rather be smeared with mud.

A bark reverberated back at her through the orchard. Her rain streaked head lifted, pointed in the direction of the bark and her dark nose confirmed it. She didn't counter with another bark. The direction was pinpointed now and she had no problem leaving the other disconcerted by her silence. Her pace increased now, exchanging speed for discretion. By the time she approached Enoki her feet were an unbecoming shade of bubblegum under under the thick mud that concealed the color.

The other was waiting for her, standing at the ready. Her steps slowed, leaving her scrutinizing the loner from the shelter of a tangled cherry tree. Enoki's stomach bulged and her lips and jaws were stained crimson. Iopah's nose lifted to scent, still watching the younger female intensely. Nothing. Her muzzle lowered and she considered the other woman in puzzlement. What meal had she eaten that still freshly bloodied her? Her gaze dipped to the cherries at their feet then snapped up in realization.

Her shock at the discover made her blurt out, "Aren't they bitter? They used to be."

Such an introduction was very uncharacteristic for Iopah. She could feel the encounter slipping from her control and remained impassive, trying to regain the upper hand. She had after all asked a question. Even if no forethought had gone into she could at least be reserved as she waited for the answer. As she stood waiting Enoki yielded before her. With the lone wolf folding, and Iopah waiting sternly over her for the answer, the universe shifted back into some semblance of normal.

Enoki responded in a roundabout fashion. Yes and no. It answered nothing. A single damp ear swung, the wolf equivalent of a bored sigh. Iopah was not satisfied with the answer and she stood waiting with an expectant air for the rest.

It should have been obvious. And when Enoki answered it was. Iopah had been a pack wolf for too long. She'd forgotten about the twisting desperation. The hunger she'd felt in the recent famine paled in comparison. It would drive a wolf to eat anything. Sour cherries. Bear scat. Wild apples. Crabapples is what they were called in the southern mountain ranges. Iopah still remembered the sharp, tart taste of them and swallowed heavily. There was little she could do for this girl but give advice.

"Watch the ravens. They can lead you to food." Her head tilted down to Enoki, feeling sorry for her and her plight. "Are you from here?"

It didn't occur to her that her advice was already known. She remembered starving herself and following the ravens for a meal. It was so long ago that she couldn't remember where it came from. A lesson from her mother? One of many certainly. Or perhaps a trait she had learned from Kele. In the months leading up to that day they were each others shadow. So, she thought herself a benefactor and when Enoki nodded in thanks a pleased smile crossed her face.

The question had not been idle. Knowing what sort of land Enoki was from would allow Iopah to direct her to a similiar landscape. Or even just give her pointers about hunting in this land that was likely different than home. It was quiet attention that schooled her features. This young woman was no threat, had not trespassed, and was respectful. Iopah was not expecting the shock she was in for. Her eyes fixed themselves on Enoki like hooks. Only the widening of her pupils showed that the answer had been heard.

The Calarosa was not home. It was in the backdrop, but she had been there. Enoki continued speaking. The words filling the air, unregistered. The Calarosa was not a land she had simply traveled through on her way to nowhere. Furtive trips made with Kele and her sister and brother. Her head pulled back and to the side, and regarded Enoki with a mix of curiosity and animosity. They would have been rivals. Her brother had died on her mountain. Her reminiscing continued, each new thought more prying and dark than the last. A familiar name (Elettra's) snapped her back. She stepped back, now listening closely to this wolf that she may have shared a past with.

Ashrelle. She played the surname over and over. Her mind skidding and looking for purchase, something to giver her a clue as to this wolf. Had she ever meet them? Had she fought with them? Had her parents? Very likely. They squabbled with everyone. A pale hindfoot shrewdly lifted and pressed into the dirt behind her. The cherries were completely forgotten now. If this went sour, and it very likely may, she wanted to make a quick escape. "Iopah Barberi. From the Black Hills." Whatever this Enoki knew of her family it was probably not good.

She wanted it to be an amazing coincidence. Perhaps some other Calarosa mountain range, one with no famine and no humans. One that existed far from the misery of home. Then this wolf before her could be a benign stranger and in only a second Iopah could be explaining the amazing coincidence that didn't connect them.

She wanted to be wrong. Maybe she had heard wrong, the words obscured by the rain. It was starting back up and around her tiny drops beat at the leaves and against the ground. Maybe she remembered it wrong. It was so long ago, and in that time she could have confused the name. And this wolf had a homeland with a similar enough name to trigger her sudden memory.

The rain dripped onto and along her face as she hoped and prayed for any of those things. It seeped into the darkening fur over her shoulders then ran down her legs. Enoki was taking her time considering Iopah's words. There was no sign of animosity, despite the tense watchfulness. The rain washed the concealing mud she had purposely stepped in only minutes ago. Under the disguise her feet were stained blood-red.

The Black Hills located just below the Calarosa mountains?

Her soaked paws flexed at the telling question, blunt nails gripping the damp earth. None of her wishes had come true.

The question had given her a slender window of opportunity, either intentional or not. A yes or no answer. A yes would brand her. It would make Iopah her parents daughter, and she would become whatever immoral creature Enoki expected her to be. Or she could shrug a no, 'Gee, I've never heard of the Calarosa.'. It was easy in theory to deny her past, the part she had played, and her parents.

She lifted her head, heavy and streaked with rain, to stare levelly at Enoki. Her eyes, down to the exact shade of deep gold, were her fathers, but the intensity that shone in them now was wholly her mothers. "Yes, those Black Hills. You don't have to pretend, I'm sure our paths crossed."

If she had been able to place Enoki's last name she wouldn't be so defiant now. She didn't know this was Kele's younger sister. He had ceased to be an Ashrelle the day he was taken. Iopah had never asked and he had never spoken of it. There was no way for her to know she was speaking to the sister of a ghost.