She had no idea where she was going, or if she would even find the wolf she sought, but like anything else misplaced, she could only hope that retracing her steps to date would be enough to turn up what was lost. She had started out in the Sacred Grove, passing by the Lost Lake and down, down, down into that terrifying blood stained forest. Her aching hips and the tiny legs of her children dragged her journey out. What may have taken a healthy adult five or six days to traverse had dragged out into weeks... just how many she couldn’t quite be sure.
Unable to hunt she had resorted to scavenging, and what little she found went straight into the shrinking stomachs of her children. There were packs far closer no doubt (though any sign or scent of them she was yet to find), and all she had to go on was the last lingering scent she had found in his coat on that far off spring day... Water, and the woody scent of oak. The south was too wet, and the north was too dry. So she kept on heading east, taking shelter where she could curled tightly around all she had left in the world. Two tawny bundles of bone and fur, barely sleeping for fear of what may come upon them in the dark.
When she first began to scent the strange pack she thought she must have been dreaming, perhaps delusional from the lack of sleep and food, the ache in her bones and the weariness off her mind, but when she crossed a scent... His scent, she did not hesitate to howl her plea into the foreign woods. Moving on shaky limbs she stepped over her children protectively and waited, eyes and ears trained on the forest that surrounded them, waiting, hoping, praying that her dark friend would be the one to find them.