Bearclaw Valley hostage of the pearl

there’s a certain level of disorientation at being so far inland, away from the sea. she carries the salty tang of sea, of algae and decaying seaweed upon her pelage though; thus it is always apart of her. that endless drive to explore is her driving force; pushing her into what is unknown to her. it is what drove her from the cove. it is what drives her further and further still. the desire to break away from that which has become horribly monotonous. like a sailor who was born on a ship and most felt at home on one, the adjustment to land and more land surrounding her and stretching on vastly, far as the weathered horizon, leaves her a bit uncertain.

still, teague doesn’t let the unknown slow her down.

it is this that drives her to the borders of the pack; twin packs she would wrongfully assume.

the scents are many and teague is sure to leave a respectful distance between her and the border markings. from there, her muzzle tips and her voice rises in the announcement of her presence and belays a vague interest of joining — vague if only because she knows nothing of these wolves. her compass draws her here but whether she remains either by her own decree, or the decree of this pack's leaders, is yet to be seen.