Swiftcurrent Creek And when I think of tomorrow, there we are.

The absence of @Wylla at the gathering concerned her, and had remained at the forefront of her mind. She thought solemnly of the girl's misfortune and feared that, in this late stage of her pregnancy, the unexpected loss of her brother may have proven to be too much. A few days had passed since the pack came together to mourn, a time that Durnehviir hoped the coastal wolfess would make a reappearance - but alas, she did not. Constantine had also expressed concern and, upon his investigation, had returned to her with better news.

Uncertainty still clouded her thoughts and, feeling that she needed to see for herself, the crimson Frostfur trailed through Swiftcurrent's dense woodland in search of any sign that Wylla had passed through. Nose to the ground, Durnehviir happened across a trail that hinted at her scent, but it was not fresh. Opting to follow anyway, Durnehviir loped along the worn deer track and weaved carefully through the foliage when it led her off course and deeper into the forest. 

The aroma of milk and newborns overwhelmed her senses as she drew nearer to what she then assumed to be Wylla's densite, and relief allowed her shoulders to slacken. Durnehviir exhaled softly and paused several yards from the burrow to peer through the branches for a short while to collect herself. She knew better than to venture too close to a new mother, but her own maternal instinct did long to assist. She and Wylla were clearly not one another's biggest fan, but she appreciated the quiet respect that they seemed to share.

Durnehviir ducked past the leafy twigs to better make herself visible should the new parent choose to look out beyond the mouth of her whelping den.