Nova Peak frostfall

Wandering is second nature to the inkstain; she has pledged herself, but she will not be tied down, not yet. Possibly not ever. She drifts past the borders without a second thought, marking them as she leaves — that's the strangest part, she thinks. She's spent so long on the run, careful to never leave her scent too heavily in any area — and now she does the opposite.
She spends most of the day far north, and finds herself reluctant to start the journey back. She drags her feet a bit, lingering and waffling until she picks up a scent trail through the smoke. She follows it through the long-burned section of forest into an area seemingly untouched, and shortly glimpses the stranger through the trees. The yearling isn't sure what makes her seek the company of a stranger over her new packmates, but she doesn't question it. Instead she slips through the foliage towards the figure bent over a trickle of melting ice, chuffing to announce herself.