Ankyra Sound i am not your blowing wind, i am the lightning [pack howl]

All she had ever known had been stolen by a particularly fierce snowstorm. Her aunt had told her Nanook could never be found, and Tunerk was inclined to believe the woman... but childish belief inspired her to look beyond the claim at least fifteen times over prior to giving up completely. Instinct bid that she hunker down, but Tunerk had yet to experience snow at its fiercest.

Until that fateful evening.

Tunerk had not hunkered down, as she ought to of; she wandered through it, noseblind and dumb; by the time the storm had passed, the northerner was no longer in proverbial Kansas and had found her way to Oz. Tunerk was wise enough to keep away from the myriad of scents that dictated that there was pack, and old enough to know that it was not her own. So she wandered, exhausted and tired... but her resilience kept her going.

There were no wolves as pale as she that she had come across, and none that understood her tongue when she spoke it. No one knew what her pack name had meant in passing, and Tunerk was resigned to the fact that she was lost, for now. Tunerk did not know where to turn to next when a medley of howls sounded off in the near distance. Her ears swiveled atop her head berfore one panned backward, then forward. She shifted her weight, uncertainty paramount in all the emotions that flit through her mind, before the pull of the song set its claws into her chest. She was both too young and inexperienced to resist the call, and her own voice climbed above the sounds trees even as she loitered beyond them, still keeping a respectful distance for the time.