Silver Moraine his garden at argenteuil

It was unwise to leave home so heavily pregnant, but it was a brief, faint whiff on the breeze that drew an irresponsible Saena from her home in the deepening gloom. With brow furrowed into concerned lines, the woman picked her way among the precarious stones with her head bowed and nostrils flaring. It took some time, but she found what she wanted eventually.

Her lip lifted into a sneer as she inhaled the days old scent of Lunar Eclipse printed on the stone where the wolf had stood. Esaro's scent overlaid it and suspicion began to brew in her head. The deserter had been near, much too near to her pack given the circumstances of her departure, and to say she was disappointed that the scents pooled on lingered on the stone was an understatement. There was nothing she could do about it now, but it solidified her resolve to ensure her borders were secure.

As she lifted her head, turned and prepared to head home, she was met with the sight of a bright wolf moving about in the twilight. Hackles prickling alertly, the female smoothed back her ears and growled a low warning. It served two purposes, the first being a warning to stand down, as if Renoir had done something wrong when really she (he, as Saena may or may not learn) hadn't.