Ouroboros Spine In the fell clutch of circumstance

She leaned into the brief contact, a light and amicable shove of her shoulder in response to her superior. The bond between them was there and it was because of that bond, because of that level of respect Kroc held for her that the gray-furred creature nudged the hare toward her. Yes, it was her catch but her catch was the Pack's. What was hers was theirs; food, loyalty, pride. All of it. She was theirs and they were her own. Kroc would live and die by the wolves of this pack, her honor steadfast and her allegiance unwavering. 

"Borders are clear." Her gravel-like voice intoned in Inuktitut, as natural to any Tartok wolf. Being around others from the pack brought the language back to her and every day, more and more rust fell away. It was good to be home.