Moonsong Glacier you've got me singing, singing your choir

there was familiarity found in the chief's voice, and there was unknown.

she was experienced in the ways of scouts and messengers, but the carrying of good tidings — not so much.

still, she adjusted her course to round near where the man had called from.

she kept to the edges of the gathering, tail curled neatly by her paws as she awaited the message.