Jade Fern Grove crimson moss

There was something off in Scimitar's call as it rose into the air, beckoning him ...and the others of their Grove pack to him. It was a slightly heightened noise, an urgency that had Jorunn's perked ears to swivel back to rest at half mast atop his skull as he turned to briefly observe what he could make out detail wise of his surroundings upon their borders. For a small second he hesitated, wondering if he should mark where he stopped so he could return to it before he lurched forward, legs growing longer each day as he neared his (impressive) adult height carrying him towards his adopted father. The urgency in the Grove King's call had been enough to cause Jorunn to abandon his patrol. There would be time for that later. His patrol could wait ...but he got the sinking feeling that whatever Scimitar had to say couldn't wait.

He was not the first to arrive, but neither was he the last and with a soft, inaudible sigh of relief he slowed his pace as he approached those that had already gathered, stopping when he was near Pasha and Whittier. Jorunn could not visibly discern the blood from the grass, except for the slightly darkened gray against a slightly lighter gray, but he could smell it well enough. It was rancid, a sharp, metallic smell that was not anything he could ever mistaken for anything else. Bazi, Allure and Swift's lack of presence hadn't gone unknown by the young Lodbrok but he hadn't questioned it. He hadn't thought on it any more than Bazi had taken the two out on a field trip. It didn't occur to him — until now — that perhaps their absence had not been intentional. Suddenly, the scent of blood heavy in the air caused a quicken in his heart beat and the coarse tendrils of his winter coat to bristle with unease at the nape.

Silently, his eyes searched for and found Scimitar, brow furrowing slightly as he waited to hear what the patriarch had to tell them.