Stavanger Bay There is no forgiveness in nature

Holy crap, sorry I'm so late to this, guys. I've been on absence a while. Also, pardon Verrine's asshattery. He's just bein' a wolf. :P

He was already searching for Julooke before Thistle's howl rent the night air. It wasn't like his mate to be out so late without letting Verrine know where she was going beforehand. He was almost frantic with worry. Had she wounded herself hunting? There were cougars in this region -- had she perhaps fallen foul of one of those nasty cats? Had she slipped and tumbled down a craggy slope in the hills? Countless scenarios ran through his mind, each one more terrifying than the last, so that soon his trot became a full run and he began to search outside of Stavanger's lands for her.

And that was when he heard Thistle's voice split the moonlit night. There was a message of panic and desperation in her howl, and Verrine knew on an instinctive level that it had everything to do with Julooke. His stomach lurched and his heart began to race as he tore across the land as fast as his legs could carry him. It was a pretty good distance, as he'd been most of the way across their packlands from where Thistle had sent up her call, but his pace chewed up the distance in mere minutes. As he drew nearer, he smelled blood -- Julooke's blood -- and immediately his hackles bristled. A snarl bubbled low in his throat as he emerged on the scene and saw his beautiful, snow-white wife laying in a heap on the ground, spattered with blood. His first instinct, the basic drive of a wolf seeing his mate in danger, was to drive the other wolves away and he very nearly did. But he managed to restrain himself and, shaking with anger and horror, crouched down beside Julooke. He kissed her face tenderly, murmuring comfortingly in her ear, "I'm here, baby. I'm here." He looked up at Thistle then, his eyes pleading. "Please…help her."