Cerulean Cape Only the Wind

Pebble did not know where she came from or where she was going, and the crimson Frostfur pitied her. She couldn't imagine what it would be like, to know you were missing something but unable to be certain of what that was. It was as though she'd lost part of herself, Durnehviir supposed, and found herself hoping that time would return the other female's memories to her.

"I live just South of here," she offered, "in a place called Ravensblood Forest. We are a new pack, growing daily and soon to make our official claim. You can seek me there, if you do not find what you're looking for and require somewhere to stay for the cold season." It felt wrong somehow, inviting a loner into Constantine's pack when she had no real right, but it felt wrong to leave this lost wolfess with zero hope.

The sea breeze brought an uncomfortable chill that trailed the length of Durnehviir's spine, and she acknowledged that she was likely feeling the cold more so that she'd stopped moving. Small, fine-boned and with a pelt that had not yet completed its Winter growth, she inwardly grumbled over his Arabic heritage. "I was born nearby, actually," the tawny she-wolf smiled, amused. It was easy for others to assume she was an exotic creature, what with her giant ears, sharp features and doe eyes. Although not entirely similar, Viinturuth had told her before that she reminded him fondly of her mother, Paarthurnax, their father's delicate desert flower. This was a curious thing for Durnehviir, for her uncle had been tall and solidly build, with a dense Northern pelt of obsidian and a mane of bold platinum. Sans their matching eyes, Durnehviir and Viinturuth were polar opposites. "My mother was born to the deserts of the South," she recalled her guardian's tale of where he and Paarthurnax had come from, "but she named me for a character in her own mother's lore. And she, my grandmother, was from the far North. Frostfurs are well travelled, it seems."