Greatwater Lake there with my crooked teeth

The strong odors of the lake had done well to mask both of their scents, it had seemed. The only pack that Dulce knew fell southward was Blackfeather, her own eventual destination. There could have been others that had settled since her visit, and although that didn’t seem likely, it was partially what she hoped for. The name? she asked, wondering if this stranger might be so kind to silence or confirm her theories. 

It felt almost unnatural for Dulce to be referred to as a wanderer. Sure, she’d spent most of her time as a pledge out on her own, but she still carried the anchor of being a pack wolf. The sudden identity crisis was something that she was still in the process of working through, unfortunately. N-no, Dulce replied with a sentimental shake of her head, I’m a scout. Are you? A wanderer?