The fishing had not as successful as Desideria might have hoped. Not only was the forest of Relic Lore a bit further north than where she’d been held for the past year or so, but Lost Lake was surrounded by mountains. Er, a singular mountain, but her point remained. The water was very cold (if not frozen), and it seemed none of the fish were even awake this time of year. If they were, the woman certainly hadn’t seen one, and so she was forced to make due without a scaly gift for her old friend, Namid.
Instead, the older Timber wolf was forced to rethink her plan. So it was with a small marmot that she appeared on the borders of Fallen Tree Cove. It smelled so very familiar, and so very different – nothing like the pack with which she’d been forced to stay, and quite a bit different than the group she’d inadvertently left. Wovles she knew, and wolves she didn’t know. Tagg said the leading pair had had cubs again, and--
Ignoring the knot slowly tying itself in her gut, Des tipped her head up and howled softly, wishing to summon one of the leaders to the border itself. If she was lucky, it would be Namid who appeared, but – if Vespertio say it appropriate to oversee the investigation, Des would simply deal.