Rough around the edges (joining)

Thistle had not chosen this area, or more so the former. Not when she had first come along. No, she had merely went to the first pack land on a whim. Mostly because it reminded her of home. She didn't regret that choice, and perhaps something or someone was leading her this way unpurpose.

Thistle dipped her muzzle in greeting. She studied the she wolf in front of her. She was black as Thistle's son Mercury. A pang of longing for her child went through her at the thought. She shrugged it off, he had chosen to try and make his own way. She thought of Gyda again as well, both gone. All that was left was Gunnar. She had some wild fur though, it was a little bit adorable in a strange way. She reminded her a bit of child that had been playing all day. Odinn must have sent you our way. What are you skills? And your name? I am Thistle Cloud Alphess of the bay.