Deepwood Weald or a person i could call home.

The wraith dipped her head in acceptance, not entirely able to wipe the happy grin from her thin features -- nor stop the swish swish swish of her curled tail. "It is good to be back," she lilted in return, reaching up to bump her temple against the curve of Donav's neck playfully. "To be going 'ome," she corrected, octaves dropping in volume slightly at the thought. 

She gathered up the raccoon's remains -- food was scarce and perhaps one of her packmates would be hungry -- and fell into step behind the higher-ranked wolves naturally (a habit of her days in the service of others), flanking their trio as they trudged through the snow.