Duskfire Glacier so i leave it up to you

Tuwawi'ss gunmetal eyes traced Echelon's outline, made brighter by the setting sun. No... she had never met this wolf before. Yet, the memories triggered by her perfume became clearer and the monarch became cognizant that they shared the same heritage. These Tartok wolves... rarely a colored hair among them. It was only fitting that this rogue was dressed in a pelt of obsidian. The mother's red ears turned thoughtfully as the inky she-wolf slicked back her lobes, deciding whether her guest would humor the same interest.

The Sveijarn's advance paused, perhaps against her better judgement. "Then perhaps you know a tribe named Tartok? Ring a bell?" she asked, fishing for more information. I was unlikely the stranger would be able to glean her connection to Siku's reign, the scent long since faded from her ember pelt.