Love the ones you still have

Turquoise felt even worse when she left Neverwinter without seeing Rivet in person, yet she still wasn't ready to face the DeMonte woman. Now she felt cowardly along with everything else, yet at least the task at hand kept her somewhat busy. For no real reason at all—except for the obvious one of avoidance—Turq had taken it upon herself to check out the surrounding territories and whatever packs they might host. She knew of Ookan, yet surely there must be others?

It didn't take long at all for her to stumble across one. Turq drew up at the foot of a plateau, her tawny head tipped back and her black nose wriggling as she read the scents. This was a large pack, at least larger than Neverwinter. The dominant scent belonged to a young, healthy female. The Gunner bobbed her head approvingly and thought, Power to ya', girl.

Hoping to meet said young woman, Turquoise eventually pressed her lips into an "o" shape and let out a low, sonorous howl requesting the pack's leadership or, if she was unavailable, then at least a representative of some sort. The large she-wolf then dropped onto her haunches to wait, her neck arching around to nibble at an itch behind her shoulder, just an inch or so from the thick black stripe that ran down her back.