Gyrfalcon's Keep He walked down a busy street staring solely at his feet

Now and again the wind shifted, taking the scent away from her. She prayed, silently, and with patience, she waited out the doubt- and the wind brought the scent back, and stronger. She closed her eyes and breathed, flicking her tongue over her nose. Her lips moved, as though mouthing words. When she heard the rhythmic pattern of a gallop, she opened her eyes to see the brown-eyed wolf sprinting toward her. 

She tilted her head up, smiling, in a quiet thanks, before she looked again- only to see that Asvoria's pace had halted, and she now regarded Thyra was something akin to suspicion. She seemed to look beyond her, or through her, and Thyra felt her heartstrings twang. There were those that she had loved, that she had left behind, and Asvoria would know that. She crooned to the one she saw as a holy woman, revered and respected. Departed with her faith in tact, from a pack that had turned its back on their faith. To her, she uttered a keening devotion, assurance that she had come not to hound her, but join her.