Hope Anchors the Soul (IC Joining)

Pulling back slight as the other female reached for her scent, it was not a reaction of freight only of forgetfulness. The length of time with which she had endure made the common pleasantries an enigma to Shalon. It was only a brief off set from her usual collectedness. The scent that clung to her coat was of dampness, and stone, giving way to a cold past. Shalom had found herself unable to thoroughly remove the scent of her homeland even after so much time, although there would be no recognizable scent on the female, and none from any neighboring packs for this had been the first she had greeted.

Shalom took in the appearance of the slightly older female, her bright unruly fur, swiftly changing between bronzed and sooty brown fur. Shalon's orbs were drawn to the piercing red that ran along her back, a most attractive color, especially in contrast with her white belly. Shalon took a light step toward the adjacent female taking in her sent. The wafting scent of earth and hay meet Shalon's sense.

Listening to her affirmative voice, Shalon did not hesitate in her reply, "I am called Shalon, the name off my family no longern applies to me," her eyes drifted to the ground at the mention of her family, before continuing. "I have come from quite some distance away, a place called White Hall Steps, but I have left that behind in search of a new beginning." Shalon did not venture her own questions, knowing it was not her place to do as such. Instead she waited to see if the women would return with a name of her own.