Ouroboros Spine Are there bandits at grandma's house?

His voice rose into the sky, calling her. Perhaps not her in particular but she would answer anyway. He had been absent lately, something the Warden had taken note of, as was warranted by her position. The white, bearish creature rose from her half eaten meal, carrying it along with her as she moved in the direction the call had come from. Fully mended, she moved like she'd never been injured, and for that, Kroc was grateful. Crippled was not something she aspired to be and he had assisted with eliminating that threat. In essence, she respected him and his abilities. 

Gravitating towards the Spine's calling card, gold eyes stayed alert, watching for his form. She didn't know why he'd been absent and honestly, she didn't care. She didn't put two and two together that he was avoiding Tonravik as she broke into her heat cycle. Kroc had not hit her own and likely wouldn't. She hadn't last year, though that might have been because she'd been a loner at the time. Whatever the reason, the smell of the Alpha female had reminded her of the very first time it had happened, which had so far (thankfully) been the last time. 

So when she approached her pack mate, it was under normal circumstances, though she tossed the half meal in his direction. She wasn't sure if he'd eaten recently. She had and it was just that simple. "Shit-For-Brains." The epithet was amicable, something she was just used to calling him. He had a name. The others had a name for him, too. But Kroc remembered wolves best when they'd earned a nickname in her own book. "Welcome back.