Dawnlark Plains It isn't what it seems

it's perfect! thank you for starting! <3

wintersbane ventures the span of the taiga, making mental notes of territories where the herds migrate, favored bedding and grazing grounds. the purpose isn't strictly singular, either. he covers the territories of western half of the taiga to ascertain what he suspects: there are no packs. there are scents around the tangle — which he'd given a wide berth accordingly — but that is more than plenty of distance away from the permafrost hollows that he suspects the vartija does not need to ever cross their paths to hunt.

the taiga's been fairly evenly vetted by now and he is content that permafrost hollows is prime and ideal real estate. the plains are barren and he might've turned and headed back the way he came if he hadn't caught onto a peculiar scent mixed with one that strikes him as vaguely familiar. without necessarily consciously deciding to he follows after it, unsure of what about it that lures him like a sailor to the depths of the sea floor.

it doesn't take him long to find her — anything'd be hard to miss in this desolate territory — and he lets out a low chuff to announce his presence to elixir as he attempts to figure out why she smells so different to him than he can remember her smelling the last time they'd met.