Seaside Moors Stare at empty chairs.

It had been ages since she'd been this way. Felt like ages, at any rate. Time was immaterial. The air was colder and the sky overcast, having blustered itself in to a mess of streaky grey cloud-cover over the past few hours.

It was probably stupid of her to wander aimlessly like this. Better to conserve her energy until a hunt presented itself, or at least a carcass to pick at, but instead Stryx sulked along the weathered moors without any aim.

On occasion she would overturn a stone, sometimes she'd stop to preen at a burr caught in her leg fur, but she did not stop for long. Not until a familiar marking piqued her interest - a wolf scent she recalled from further afield.

She found herself trailing along this invisible marker wondering how Raleska and her little family fared.