Stone Circle fourteen miles away from a landfill grave

Nanook did not recognize the call that went up to touch the realm of Easthollow, and she heeded the unfamiliar voice with haste. She felt uneasy, and on guard - she reckoned they all were, after Cyron had informed them of a man with the scent of Blackfeather who had been milling about their borders. A growl rumbled in the back of her throat, and her eyes darkened. If those Woods were oozing over the mountains to threaten her family with their war, she would be the first to show them their mistake. This stranger had called, however - a good sign they were likely just some curious scout - but the mercenary would take no chances.

She neared him with tail and head raised high. He certainly didn't fit the description Desna had given of the one they were to be alert for, nor reek of anything but the wind and the wild. His face looked like it had seen better days, and her gaze lingered on his gnarled ears and muzzle before imploring him with a questioning look - not hostile, but not welcoming, either. Neutrality, and reservation - a simple a prompt for him to speak, and a sharp pique of her ears to signal she was listening to the words he would say.