Whitefish River gone fishin’

Spica hadn't really ever expected to see Finley, the Saints of the Dying Light wolf again. Much less in her own pack. So when she saw the wolf just inside their territory staring at the river and recognised her, she was surprised as heck. Spica got closer, but before she could reach the old acquaintance her leader showed up. Spica didn't know Ira very well, but enough to know to respect her. Spica hadn't felt much at home lately here -- her visits to the den and the baby siblings were sporadic at best as she struggled between hurt and jealousy and wanting a place in her siblings' lives -- and she and Syrma had talked of leaving lately. But it was hard to take such a step. For all of Spica's big talks, she had a little heart and thinking of leaving this on bad terms with her family hurt, even if she'd never admit it.

As Spica approached, ignoring the rain, she said: Hey - fancy seeing you here. Surprise was in her voice as she addressed Finley, and then nodded respectfully to Ira in greeting, body language neutral.