Lost Creek Hollow when the earth holds still

Andalusia had never meant to disappear, but what she'd intended as a two-week foray beyond the Hollow now neared the two-month mark. Distance and unfavourable weather had kept her from returning, and even when the snows had finally stopped, the mountain passes had proved much too dangerous to cross. So she'd bid her time, all the while inching day by day into an absence she was sure would raise suspicion of death or abandonment.

When the snows subsided and melted to show the ground beneath, she hadn't rushed in her return, though the Hollow never lapsed from her mind. Though she'd been eager to get back, there was no wisdom to travel in haste. She knew the longer her absence stretched, the more likely Harlyn and Mordecai would give her place in the pack to another, but better to be alive and forced to look for shelter elsewhere than to die for a security she would never see.

Dawn broke by the time she stepped near the Hollow's ground, but the sight did not mark the end of her venture. Andalusia had travelled through the night as soon as the surroundings became more familiar. Though exhaustion gripped her legs, she didn't let herself charge across the boundary. Rather, she stayed herself a respectable distance from where the scent of her aunt and uncle rose to meet her. Their mark had long faded from her fur; she was back to bearing the scent of a wanderer, of earthy wind and melting snow.

The Ostrega wasted no time in calling for @Mordecai, but held loosely to the hope he'd take her back into the Hollow's fold. If he chose to give her refuge again, she would accept, but if he turned her away, she would leave understanding, though the possibility pained her more than she would admit.