Bitterroot Valley a green truck hummed low

It was her...

Cynefrid's tail would wag in both relief and excitement — she was able to find at least one other member of Kingslend that was still alive and kicking. Her attention briefly shifted to a small squirrel shuffling away through the grasses but, not knowing the context of it's presence, paid little mind to it and continued towards the similarly colored she-wolf.

While approaching, Cyne took note of Friede's snide expression and tone, but wasn't too attentive towards it and simply breathed what sounded like a small hum in response. The doe already knew that Friede wasn't exactly the kindest of the bunch, but she was still a member of Kingslend regardless. A part of her home in Cyne's eyes — even if the two knew little about each other familial wise.

In response to her mention of Cynefrid's wound, she'd turn to face her flank with a frown. "Unfortunately, yes. It would appear as though I did not make it through the disaster without a painful reminder of its existence, but I've faired quite well along the way despite that..." she turned back to Friede with a warm smile, observant that the fae was not as physically affected by the fire. "I am just grateful you seemed to have escaped the disaster unscathed. Perhaps, you've come across any others? If they are harmed, I must tend to them immediately..." Cynefrid asked with her warm smile now turning into a more serious expression. She lifted her crown to sniff out the air before Friede could answer. If the fae had encountered another along the way, it could mean that other members of her pack wouldn't be as dispersed as notioned.