Making their way across the mountain, along frosted ridges or around its rocky base, Borden knew somewhere, someone was making their way down. If no one had heard his cry for help, then he would really need to think up a second plan. As they waited, he looked to Vlarindara, an ear swiveling to the side as the other remained forward, giving an expression of surprise and disbelief. She had traveled a while longer in order to get to him; rather than seeking their help, she risked an hour at best to reach him.... and it had initially been in vain. Or had it…?
Adjusting his stance, he raised a forepaw and then the other; he was getting antsy. His head shook, not saying anything about her not seeking aid from Relic Lore’s other pack. Now, was not the time to upset themselves further; besides, Borden wasn’t at all sure if Swift River had a medic to begin with. It wasn’t long until the figure of a lithe, cinnamon-and-cream-pelted female came into view. Running. Fast. His eyes, purely golden in the late morning sun, watched as she came to a stop before them. Her approach sent Vlarindara a step back into the snow and Borden gave a brief nod to Atiris despite her puzzled expression.
Ready to address her words, Borden glanced over to Vlarindara then nodded to Atiris as the Mackenzie female explained the youth in question was hers.
Keeping quiet as the two addressed one another, eyed the other cautiously, the scout nodded to confirm Vlarindara’s statement. ”He is dangerously ill. My… My friend, here, Vlarindara, is in need of a certain plant.” Glancing to his pack mate, he quickly introduced them, hoping their acquaintance with each other would ease any tension. ”Er,” he breathed. ”Atiris, this is Vlarindara. Vlar, Atiris… she’s new to Midnight Plateau.”