Kettle Pot Pond fall away

lach meets @Morganna 

*throws confetti*
morning - moderate snow (16 ° F, -9 ° C)

Lachesis was not looking for anything, or anyone, in particular. The pale leader had a permanent case of wandering paws and was beginning to feel confined to Kingsfall. Ideally he wanted to encounter one of the many loners that passed through the tundra to get to the rest of Relic Lore and try to sway them into coming back to Hearthwood with him. The pack’s dry spell continued and his worry only increased as the days went by. XIX had hope for Hearthwood—they were the little pack that could. They had narrowly avoided a disastrous flood and undesirable neighbours; Hearthwood was their haven. Aside from his children, the pack was one of Maksim’s last testaments. Lachesis did not want his memory to fall to pieces—not while he was in charge.

With nimble, precise steps, the ghost meandered through the tundra, leaving the safety of the trees behind. Spring would arrive soon, chasing away the cold winds of winter with moisture and warmer temperatures. Which meant plants would begin to sprout once more. Luckily the small pack had not been plagued by illness over the winter months, which meant his inventory had remained mostly untouched. But that did not mean he still could not collect other herbs. XIX liked being prepared for anything and everything. One of the neighbouring packs could, potentially, need something that was tucked away inside his infirmary. One could never tell when sickness, or disaster, would curse a pack.

Snow had begun to fall from overhead, causing a faint smile to work its way onto his pale features. While he could not wait for the warmth to return to Lore, his Arctic heritage made him quite fond of the cold, white substance. It was one of the reasons why he was glad the river wolves had moved to the Expanse.

The ghost hovered around the edge of the pond, his chartreuse gaze trying to make out the shape of the monadnock in the distance. He could not help but wonder how much snow the rock received under these conditions—the canopy of trees over Hearthwood kept the majority of the snow out, XIX could only imagine the amount the Whitestone received without the protection of trees. His lips twitched in amusement. Perhaps one day he would get the chance to see the top of the rock.

stick with those who stick with you

Morganna was on the lookout for any sign of what might have taken her sons eye. She was also looking for food. The herd that @Lorcan and @Anaia had spotted down by the cougar eye was still in the vicinity, working its way up to rest between Hearthwood and the Monadnock, hugging the treeline, but with all that had happened since she was told of their presence she hadn't managed to make it to kingsfall to discuss with their neighbours. It would turn out that perhaps she wouldn't have to make the journey after all.

It wasn't a white wolf she was looking for (if her son was to be believed), but that wouldn't stop her approaching the man with a short bark and a neutral stance. Under different circumstances she might have made a bit more of a show about it, but she was a mother, and for once, she would be the one asking the stranger for help. It was a strange feeling for the usually confident woman, a vulnerability she usually kept locked up tight. If she never asked for it, then she couldn't be turned away. She wouldn't have to feel that gut-wretching sting.

It wasn't until she got closer that she realised this wolf was from the Kingswood, the telltale scent of hawthorn, cedar and fir giving him away. Of course she had heard of @Lachesis from @Craw, but that didn't mean that was the wolf before her. Still, they were on friendly enough terms on principle for the dark woman to give her tail a wave of greeting. "Need some help?" She tried to ask casually. No matter his answer, it would be clear from the worried look on her face that she did.

With the addition of another pack in lowlands encounters with strangers—especially those belonging to Whitestone—were becoming more frequent. But the healer did not mind. His relations with the silver spider remained good and while he was not interested in building connections with the Rye wolves, he remained neutral with them. For now. The pale leader had assured Craw that the river wolves would be on Whitestone’s side if something were to happen. Despite Kisla’s relationship with the leading pair of the north’s newest pack, Lachesis did not feel the same way. They had taken far too long to approach Hearthwood about their formation, and had lingered in the shadows for an uncomfortable amount of time before securing their land. Had they planned on living elsewhere, perhaps somewhere closer to Kingsfall? Or had they been eyeing the monadnock and realized that the pack was beginning to swell in size? Regardless of the reason, the Stark did not trust them. He would remain pleasant, for now, but that was all.

It did not surprise him when the scent of another flooded his nostrils. As the charcoal female approached he noticed that the silver spider’s scent was entwined with her own, causing his shoulders to sag in relief. He shook his head softly at her question, the corners of his lips dipping slightly. “No, not me,” he started, his head falling to the side slightly as he studied the dark female, “but it looks like you do?” He remained where he was, apple-green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the troubled wolf. With the expression she was wearing the healer worried something might have happened to the Whitestone wolves.

stick with those who stick with you