Letters from No One [IC-Joining]

What in the hell...?

Aine dropped her roughly-made sack of furs. Her nose twitched for a scent... And there it was. Weathered, beaten, and abandoned, the scents of the Horizon Ridge pack had all but disappeared almost completely.

Picking up her fur-bag, which had dried meat in the center, surrounded by salt crystals she had collected over her hunting expedition. She had returned to find not a trace of recent pack activity. Quickly, she tried to find a scent that she recognized. She found a very, very faint trail. Thistle Cloud.

She followed the trail, losing it several times due to other cross-over scents, let alone the fact that it was several weeks cold. But mainly, she was able to keep on the main track.

She was so centered on it, she yelped in surprise when she inhaled the pungent odor of a pack border. Quickly backing off, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Slowly she began to turn around, to fall back and think...