Dragoncrest Cliffs the patron bird of the vore fetish

Through the scents of the border, she can tell who is still here for the most part. Eske’s scent has started to fade. Étoille’s too. It has been months since she’s seen either mentor and she’s too late in reuniting with them, uncertain she’ll actually ever get to see them again. Even if it had been just a goodbye before their departure, it would have been enough.
 
Artaax’s scent is still there, with Dio and some newer scents she can’t pull from memory. New wolves have shown up in Drageda, new puppies she hasn’t met yet. It’s a whole new pack, more or less, as Blixen is leader in place of their Heda.
 
Her head jerks when she hears something behind her, locating Blixen quickly enough.
 
“Hey,” she responds without matching the excitement. “Yeah, if you want. I’m just trying to get used to things again.”