Altar of Twilight a bitter pill to swallow

So far, no scents. Disappointing, but Belharra was used to it. She spoke freely as she walked, pausing occasionally to nose something before moving along. For the most part, her voice carried well over the snow, though occasionally was muffled as she stuck her snout snow-deep in something interesting.

"So ye haven't?  Well - it's what we call our halfmoon. The one that grows bigger everyday." She paused to make sure the female was following, eyes on the trail as she went. "Well, that moon's named that on account of a wolf of legend in my culture, name o' Cotter." Belharra swung over a branch with ease, turning around to watch as Katya did the same. "Ye got any rogues, tricksters, mebbe, in your culture?" She'd wait for an answer, to draw parallels if she could. "That's wot this Cotter was -- a tricksty bastard as we call'em.

He was a lone wolf when he came to the Islands, beggin' our king of yore for a place in their pack. Back then, it was a big pack - a kingdom, even. The old king, that sly dog, took one look at our man Cotter and he says, 'I aint sure I likes the looks of ye', but Cotter, you see, had caught the eye of the king's mate -- a shrewd little thing called Tia."

She paused for the tenth time or so, grinning. "Got any guesses, on where this story goes?"