Overture Downs long live the king

Treason hadn't come upon the scents yet.  She was just doing her patrol and probably was a good ten minutes from finding the trails her packmates left.  As far as she knew, nothing was wrong.  Perhaps she would have thought it was weird as well, but unlike the others, her curiosity wouldn't have dragged her that way.  If it was something important she'd be informed later (or before, depending on what it was).  No, she continued on her patrol, only to have it interrupted by the call for help.

Treason was not a wolf built for speed, but her paws carried her as swiftly as they could towards the source of the call.  Eventually her sweeping track crossed with the scents of the packmates before her.  It kicked her pace up a notch, but there were limits.  She wouldn't be the first on the scene, but she would be there eventually.  

By then, player assumes, the others were already engaged.  As not a medic, she skipped over the grounded for now and continued towards where she could actually be useful.  Treason was well trained, she didn't fly in with a brain clouded by rage, she operated by her training, arcing her path towards the bear's hip, to try to latch her jaws on to a piece of pelt, to lash her head to cause damage, then to release and get away before making another attempt.  Or at the very least, that was her intent if her fangs connected.  The wolves would be like songbirds pummeling a hawk, causing far too much trouble for the bear to want to stick around.  After all, Treason had still been relatively close, an alpha's call would bring more still after her that had been deeper into the territory, would it not?