The Heartwood A new home finally? Joining

Tonravik moves toward the sound when called. Her head lifts to respond promptly to the other that she had heard. I am here. Soon, she would be there. Her long strides would soon bring her to the face of the agouti stranger to see what it was she desired. Many looked for packs now; Tonravik was content with her number, but if a wolf was an asset, they would find their place in the precarious niche of Tartok's hierarchy. They were peaceable wolves with one another, but little else. The ranks shifted as the wind would; wolves fought for their rank in the pecking order. Life was simple.

Tonravik found the other resting. That earned the other no judgment; she had no idea how far the other had traveled. So long as she was addressed appropriately, a moment of reprieve could be forgiven. The black leader moves nearer, tail high and ears erect.