Dawnlark Plains pause for paws

This taiga, cold and bleak as it was, had quite a lot of wolves. She expected to have a pleasant conversation with another wolf about her age for once (barring Burke, but he was special), but found their conversation interrupted. Twice.

Once by someone who smelled faintly familiar. She remembered that faint stench drenched all over her wolves when they came back into the folds of Blackfeather, bruised and battered, but triumphant, after fighting Swiftcurrent Creek wolves. She did not meet any of those wolves personally, but she knew that scent well. She met the wolf's gaze, seeing in him a bit of recognition as well, but they both pushed it aside. Not right to open old wounds, especially when the wolves who attacked his pack had all departed Blackfeather, one way or another.

The second time was by a younger wolf. She was barely older than her children, only a year at least, and yet she was approaching them with such dignity and aggression. It was enough to turn the corners of Meldresi's mouth slightly. She reminded her of her own daughter, strutting about, challenging all of the new wolves she met. Oh, how she longed for her daughter and her sons.

Meldresi noted that the copper and white girl did not address the former-Swiftcurrent wolf, instead focusing her eyes on the two dark-furred wolves. Meldresi looked at the girl, then sniffed. "You must be mistaken," she murmured good naturedly. "I do not smell any pack borders close by..."