Larksong Grotto In the driveway,

The nightmare wolf, now being a thrall for quite a few days and acquainting herself with the Nova Peak, finally decided to take a better tour to what was around the claim of Sagtannet. She ventured down to find an icy forest, but with blue-eyed peaking in she could see that the ice did not penetrate further in, and curiously enough, Asra started to venture forth.

However it was deemed to be difficult, she could give thanks to the mountain for helping push more strength into her legs, as she tried to maneuver her way down to the staircases, before finally,

she arrived at the pond.

It was hard to keep her gaze from roaming to the mountains—yet each sweep of her gaze only stirred the heart in her chest to squeeze painfully, and she would just as quickly look away, as if burned by the mere sight of them. Stigmata, her heart whispered despite her insistence of hushing the inner voice.

It seemed it could never be silenced.

The pale woman had drifted further from the coast—further from the safety of the forests and dense lands and now found herself in lands she had yet to explore.

The scent of the pond was what had drawn her attention, and then her sharp green eyes roved the woman with light disinterest. Yet the tantalizing wind of the colder autumn swept past her, and with it—the faintest trace of another that once more caused her heart to murmur softly within its prison.

She found herself too stunned to find words, her mind reeling with the teasing past.

With Sagtannet being at odds, she too had a more alertness, especially with venturing away from the mountain. Just by chance, did the small scent of another trace from her nose, and an ear upward in a curiosity, "I know you're there," the frost-woven wolf said with a caution.

Astute, the pale woman purred, her paws tracing closer to the other she-wolf to reveal herself. Lingering in the shadows had never truly interested her. Forgive me. I didn't want to intrude. She paused then, a roving smile barely pressing to her lips as her apple green eyes studied the beauty before her. Are you from near here?

A soft woman came to view, exotic like the sands of a warm beach, and much unlike the cold regions that Asra knew. She held beautiful green eyes, akin to spring as the vegetation was soon to grow. Though the same woman held no scents upon her so, like a simple wisp that a loner is. She nodded to her question.

"I live at Sagtannet at the mountain."

Sagtannet… from the mountains. She withheld the furrow of a brow—for she held little doubt the familiar scent that hinted upon the woman’s pelt was that of her prior comrades and the mention of the shadowed heights implicated they maintained their home.

Yet… Stigmata’s legacy had gone, it seemed. There was a certain hollowness in her chest only momentarily, though the sharp inhale of fresh winter air aligned the logic back within—they had all needed to move on, it seemed.

“The mountains,” she murmured, her eyes swiftly departing the face to study them for only a moment. “I lived there once.” She paused, testing the waters. “A pack called Diaspora.”

As no one had told of Sagtannet's past to Asra, that of the combination of Diaspora and Courtfall, the name remained unknown, "What had happened to them?" Long ago did the other reign upon the mountain, but now a different one does. She vaguely knew about their movement from the other spire, but only from momentarily mentions, and truly no clue to where the previous claim went..

Was Diaspora something that had happened long ago, or was this a recent? There was an unease stirring as the war loomed over, and how fast the others were to jump into it. She didn't want to think they fought over the claim- but somethings were always hidden.

Wistful, Ketzia considered the question—the potential of her response to it ranging from heart shattering to complete contempt.

She sighed softly, her gaze falling to the pretty she-wolf once more before lifting her graceful shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know for certain,” she replied truthfully, avoiding departing any information that the scent that clung to the woman before her was so achingly familiar. “My mate died and I took my children away. A fresh start for them.”

She wanted to avoid any form of pity—and yet she steeled herself against it, her shoulders squaring back once more. “They’re grown now. So I thought I’d come back to check up on some others.”

"I am sorry to hear that," her voice carried that of a pity, but understanding alongside with it, "it is always rough when you lose loved ones." While Asra had lost her first love in a series of betrayal alongside with her family breaking her heart, she could not imagine the factor of one dying instead of one shattering their core. However, at least her children still survived.

"I hope you find them, the world is smaller then we think." She believed in coincidence in finding, as well as the factor of one's past eventually coming to haunt. The frosty-women dreaded the day the golden man would appear before her, but she would hope he is with bed onto the other gray silver beauty. 

She sincerely hoped Ketzia would find the group known as Diaspora.