Moonspear You make wine from sour grapes

Just like Arrille, she is excited at the prospect of seeing Kjalarr again or just any sign of them, but it falls flat. There's nothing. She furrows her brow, a deep frown crossing her face. Ok. Er. 'ow 'bout a big muscular wolf wit' three scars on 'is face? Silver on top an' sandy legs on t'bottom? Kinda like dis tyke? She gestures to Arrille, hoping the visual resemblance was enough to jog some memory or something in this guy.