The sea decided to engulf what was once her home, yet, she stayed bound to the sands. Perhaps it was just due to familarity, but the yearling was a bit lost, on what else she could do. She was aware that there was other packs out there, within the mainland, but at the same time she wondered if they would accept her so.

Should she though? Grímnismál held knowledge on herbs thanks to her mother, the witchdoctor, but at the same time she knew more of poisons then any else. Being oscratized from the village because of her mothers work was hardening, she wasn't sure if the same would follow. It was not a life she wished to live again.

With thoughts, the reaper travelled by the beach, carrying holly with.

A gold wolf approached, one who was touched with the sunset itself, and she greeted so casually. It took a moment for Grímnismál to properly answer, as she was not so used to another simply, coming up to her with question, "Oh, no." There would not be too many plants on the sands, she would have to move more inland to do so.

"It is habit," her mother adored holly. It wasn't a herb, but one of poisonous substance. Anytime she found so, would bring it to her- but the witchdoctor was no more. However she still tightly clunched the plant.

"It is a keepsake of memories." It had been some time since she watched her mothers demise, but still felt unwilling to part with the bond; a holly plant. It wasn't the only plant, as Grímnismál would always bring her a various of herbs. Perhaps practice, and she grew knowledge on them, but still felt she had to learn more. It would be hard now that the island was destroyed.

Though she regarded the holly as simple beauty, but dangerous. She probably shouldn't keep it much longer- especially since it'll wilt eventually.

"Do you live here?" Rain trickled down slightly, and her ruby-eyes looked up to the storm clouds.

"Why are you this far?" Grímnismál was young, but whoever was before her was way younger then herself. She spoke properly showing of older age, but definitely shouldn't be wandering this far. It was simply assumed she lived in the area, but seemed to wander out too much.

"I'm Grímnismál," the reaper introduced herself, as she was about to offer help, "do you need help getting back?"

"Alright," it seemed she struck a cord for the younger wolf, who declared she would be fine. Though she wasn't sure what to think about the parents who let her roam- but at the same time, the bay wolves were just as brutal. Old-fashioned, but still relevant, some would be thrown over the cliff to prove their worth. Grímnismál believed her time was near for the event- but fate decided otherwise. Her mother was old-fashioned and made it clear, she would do so eventually.

"I do not believe they would welcome me; i'm an outsider," as the soul always was. Not wishing to intrude so, and especially have to face the wrath of being chased out, she would have to refrain.

"Alright," Grímnismál didn't really put much of a fight, especially since the child kept looking back at her, expecting her to follow-so. There was nothing else for her to do either, as her home was destroyed, and family gone, it was better to take the chance. She feared for the worst case which was a 'no,' and hoped that's all they would give. 

Never dealing with inland wolves, the reaper wasn't sure what to expect. She followed her so, but the two disappeared into a rather foggy area. Perhaps idle chatting, but Grimm didn't realize somewhere along the way, she lost her through the thickness.