Sleeping Dragon Long Island

The wind shifted, bringing to her nose a scent that caused her to slow, turning even as the source himelf materialized nearby. Wildfire came to a stop, peering at the wolf and trying to decide if she knew him. She was pretty sure she'd never met any bobtails within the ranks. But something about his face was strikingly familiar. She yearling squinted, then realized she had met this guy. She couldn't recall his name but she was absolutely certain he'd had a tail when they'd met.

"Uh," was her knee-jerk response to his remark. "Can't say the same about you—your tail, anyway," Wildfire said, wincing softly at how tactless that sounded. "What happened?" she wondered, sniffing the air. It was a fresh wound, if scent was any indication. Perhaps instead of hailing to the commander's den, Wildfire should be escorting her pack mate to the nearest medicine cabinet.