It had been quite some time of travel, just the two of them and despite all the joys and excitement which they had, it was obvious the young pair was not quite so set for the loner life. At least, not for long. Not so young and, not in the dead of winter.
A bit skinnier, unkept (but their coarse sea-side coats were always so) and worn, it was a hidden delight when Ozark smelt other wolves in the distance, though she may never admit it. She didn't want to settle down. She was having too much fun! But it was without a doubt they needed to, less they not make it before spring's return.
With these thoughts it mind, once Ozark smelt others, she woofed out to her sister for her attention. They had come from the highlands and moving south had gone through a number of forests and field. Now, here. An open woodland where a creek spidered its way through. Empress and maple trees scattered all around, providing much shelter yet not leaving it a smothering, cluttered forest so thick one could not walk through without tripping over vine and root. Pleasant, she felt, but nothing quite compared to the sea just yet in Ozark's eyes.
"Maybe if dis ain't 'em, dey will know de way." She murmured to her sister as she sniffed about the borders in wait. She smelt wolves, but this didn't do her much good to tell her if this was indeed the lands of her kin.