Wolf RPG

She had gone out into the world, taking with her the name Wanderer.

She had returned unimpressed.

Her pelt carried the cold tang of northern stone and snow, the heady perfume of pine trees, the sulphur stench of a hot spring's steam, and a multitude of other scents to tell of her travels. The world beyond Redtail Rise and the Teekons failed to answer the wanderlust that had driven her out into it. In the end, Wanderer concluded there was nothing out there she couldn't find at home, but at least home was pack. Family.

Thus did the wanderer of Redtail Rise stand patiently at the edge of her pack's claim, as quiet and unassuming as she had been since her birth, and peered up at the flat mountain ridge in search of a familiar face.

A scent, relatively unfamiliar, came on the wind. Stiffening, the bristling Berserkr paused to assess the it, running her pink tongue over her nose, before she decided how best to approach the wolf, whose scent teased and awakened her memory. The girl had wandered off over a month ago, leaving behind those who had cared for her in her youth. Lilia, a wanderer herself, had silently understood the young one's need to roam, and having survived on her own in the wild at such an age, she hadn't been terribly concerned. 

Nevertheless, Wanderer was a welcome sight at the borders, though the deep red of her eyes called to mind the eyes of her father, whose memory still remained as a thorn in Lilia's side. With a gruff growl, she approached, bristling fondly at the sight of the Bjern who had grown into a fine Toweard since her departure. She would be greeted with whiskers pushed forward, an invitation to exchange scents and become familiar once more.

First to descend from the Rise was its Berserkr, dark coat made resplendent by the golden highlights framing her face. She looked right at home among the gilded aspens whose leaves would soon fall to herald the coming of winter, and the bristle of Lilia's coat prompted Wanderer to lower her head and ears respectfully, tail wiggling at the tip to acknowledge a pack leader.

She reached toward the woman's chin with an appeasing flash of her tongue, nose wriggling to take in the scent of the pack even as she bared her flank for Lilia's inspection. Among them, a faintly familiar smell that sparked yearning...!

Wanderer didn't get a chance to parse what it meant, for Mulherin's arrival broke both her concentration and composure. Soft whines burbled from her throat and she dipped her head low before reaching for her brother's snout with nipping teeth and lashing tongue. Her tail was a windmill, slapping her hindquarters, tree trunks and shrubs alike.

To his question, she gave a characteristically short answer in a soft, high voice, sweeping her eyes toward Lilia to include her as well: Home is better.

She grumbled appreciatively as the youth came toward her, wriggly and excited as they sniffed and nuzzled one another. In Wanderer's pelt she found scents she missed and adored- of cedar and balsam, stone, earth, freshwater- the mix-and-match cloak of a rogue. Lilia missed scouting, and the way she would smell when she came home from visiting different areas, but secreted in her heart grew the ambition to do the same again someday. For now, she would live vicariously through the others who spent their time travelling as well. 

She smiled fondly as the siblings reunited, lifting her chin so she might not get swatted in the face by the windmilling of happy tails, though her own swayed gently from side to side. 

The change in Mulherin's speech patterns did not go amiss, but she thought it perhaps just a fluke. 

Home.

She nodded, a proud smile on her face. "Thith'll plathe'll alwayth be a home fuh you." She said fondly, moving forward to nuzzle her nose into the fur of Wanderer's ruff, preening the fur there for a moment so a fragment of her own scent would be left behind.