The borders have grown quiet. There hasn’t been a sign of a Larksong wolf in weeks and it is only then, after discussing it with Dio, that they return to their normal schedule. Border patrol will even out to all sides of the dragon with an extra precaution on the western borders for a while—perhaps while the grotto still exists beneath Reek’s reign. She finishes her own scouting from that side as she makes her way down the ridge where she eventually meets the river.
Thuringwethil moves along the bank, following it to the watering howl it leads from. The last time she’d been to the water had been when she’d stumbled upon Denali one afternoon and to her surprise, she hadn’t seen him since. She often stumbles across Seadog wolves still but it has been some time, to her surprise, and so she lets the thoughts drain from her mind as she closes in on the water.
It soaks the fur around her legs as she takes several steps in until it comes up to her chest. Her tail floats lazily on top back and forth as she lets it soak through her coat and enjoying the cool water against her warm skin. It is not the salty ocean water she craves but, for the time being, it'll soothe her.
The smoky tipped wraith had set off at the crack of dawn just as the morning sun rose into the sky. Her nose was glued low to the ground as she began tracking the faint trail of a hare, pangs of hunger only pushing her on. She had not had a proper meal since leaving her brother and the inexperienced girl was beginning to regret her choices. Yet the young beauty knew it did no good to dwell on the past. And so she set forth with a clear mind, one not tainted with false hope and lies.
By the time she reached the watering hole the girl had lost track of the hare and her hunger had only intensified. With a soft sigh the pale female slipped her front paws into the cool water and took a sip to soothe her irritated throat. It was then, out of the corner of her eye that she noticed the blurry silhouette of another. Kynareth tipped her head up ever so slightly in an attempt to catch the scent of the stranger, however she had no luck. Curious, the pale girl strolled towards the dark furred female, sea green orbs intently locked on the stranger's large frame.
Even as she tries to relax and soothe the heat that soaked into her dark fur, letting her guard down in a neutral territory is the last thing she’d do. With tensions across the way in Larksong and their mishap some time ago, Thuringwethil isn’t going to allow herself to be ambushed or cornered by a Grotto wolf. So when a figure approaches the watering hole’s bank, she turns to watch without leaving her spot in the lake until she’s ultimately noticed and the other takes it upon themselves to circle their way toward her.
Thuringwethil moves back to the muddy bank, shaking out her fur, and watching as the other trots in her direction. As she gets closer, she knows she doesn’t recognize the wolf, and her scent is just as empty. No pack she can recollect comes to mind and in fact the scent seems singular, leaving her to wonder if she belongs to another at all. The dark leader nods her head in acknowledgment once they are only a short distance away, enough to read one another’s features and determine any hostility. So far, Thuringwethil isn’t able to find anything to be a threat so she adjusts into her normal, dominant posture and squares her head above her shoulders upon her approach.