Stavanger Bay he finds wings

Moorhen had not concerned herself with any alleged packages, thus far. Her brief interaction with Umbra had been enough to sate her and, indeed, sour her toward the company of others. Instead, she did what she had come to do: investigate her true homeland. Her birthright, if some of the other Cairns she'd met were to be believed. Long ago, she had rejected those ties, even going so far as to take on different names and families — but, a little older now, she recognized that these things were just another part of her. Why should she be ashamed?

The cave den had come first: Moorhen stood in the entrance for a long time, breathing a little too sharply at the familiar scent and feel of her childhood prison. She tried once again to see it as a place in the real world, and eventually, found herself able to venture inside. It was a good den, she realized, and so she drug out the tattered pelts and brought in pine boughs and grass instead, and it suited her well enough.

Despite her lack of care for her packmates, this ritual had loosened something inside of her; the borders were now her concern as well, and so this is where Wintersbane would find her, finishing her patrol by lifting her leg on a nearby rock.

(When she was young — so very, very young — she had so admired Isengrim. Had wanted to be like him in every way. Doe became an angry and vengeful God when she caught her in the act of mimicking him in this way, and she had internalized then that this was unladylike, and unbecoming. Moor had squatted many moons even after the woman's death, but in time, had decided that if it was not ladylike or becoming, then maybe she didn't want to be those things.)

Her dark head swung in Wintersbane's direction as he approached, and her quick eyes — gleaming burgundy highlighted by the pale cream splashed under her cheeks — took in his size and bearing in a haughty sweep. A ridge of cream pelage bristled along her spine, but she allowed her head to drop and her shoulders to hunch in a show of reluctant but appeasing submission.

Hallo, she ventured, carefully optimistic that the other wolf wasn't here to make trouble. He was pack, wasn't he?