Bitterroot Valley I know the story, Dad.

Friede sauntered between territories without much regard, uncaring for the grievances of those she might cross. None of the wolves from her homeland had appeared yet, despite her many prayers that she might find someone aside from the High Elk to keep her company.

There was a vaguely familiar scent upon the air which she only recognized after a second whiff. Seriously? Friede asked with a quirked brow, Of all the wolves, you give me this one? She rolled her eyes but followed the trail begrudgingly, until spotting the near-distant frame of Kendrick.

She walked within earshot before greeting him: Oh, hi, Ken! Long time, no see stranger. Friede worked up a smile and soft laugh in an effort to appear amicable.