Hoshor Plains mayday, mayday

Aquene did not recognize the scent at first, though in truth in her current state, it was likely she wouldn’t recognize any scent that wasn’t food. She would move along, an alerted awareness about her as the form came into view. She had the recognition of who it was standing in front of her too. “Reyson?” A hint of relief edged her voice was the healer looked upon the former Mereo soldier.

The pack scent he carried was largely familiar too, giving her hope. Her stomach grumbled, her eyes shifting to the bloody rabbit in his paws before moving back to him.