Whitefish River be sure to treasure it

Lane can be skippable, if someone shows up to talk to Antares. She's just being nosy.

Melaine's head popped up out of the sweetgrass, listening to the call. The caller sounded vaguely familiar, as did the names being requested. Lane didn't have a great memory for names or voices-- smells and tastes were really more her forte. 

She wandered toward the caller, her curiosity getting the best of her. The tall sweet-sedge shoots rustled and bent as she moved through them. Her fur was beyond sticky with their sap, but Lane didn't mind in the least. The sap was actually medicinal, and cleaning it off of her pelt later would help her paw heal further from its recent infection. 

As she exited the clump of sweetgrass, the Glen leader's dark silhouette came into view. Oh! It was Antares. As soon as she recognized the man, she also remembered where she had heard the other names before; they were the people that kid, Ryn, talked about sometimes. 

So then.. Antares was trying to get Ryn home. 

With all the misfortune that had befallen the Glen recently, you would have thought that assisting the lost pup would have been far from the first thing on Antares's schedule once the blizzard cleared. It warmed Lane's heart to see her leader out here, trying to do right by the child. 

She chuffed a greeting to Antares, although the sweet-sedge shoots in her mouth muffled the sound slightly. She knew she ought not interrupt, but she couldn't help feeling invested in the outcome here. That poor kid really tugged on her heartstrings. 

Lane lingered at the edge of the river, continuing to collect sweet-sedge shoots as she walked. She kept half an eye on Antares, in case someone appeared to answer his call or he decided to approach Lane to talk.