Lake Rodney i will not be commanded.

after informing dacio and aleks that she will be heading out — in another fruitless search for prey that she knows she will not find, from experience — she departs from roangeda's claim. she's never been an idle spirit, whether it was the warrioress in her veins or the diplomat she can never be sure. though, her warborn mother had been a recluse for much of her life and this was clearly not a trait that they shared. perhaps, she considers, it is neither. perhaps it was a trait passed from commander to commander. that wanderlust that borderlines the need to conquer ...be it another pack or the exploration of territories.

her contemplations are broken as she nears the all-too familiar lake rodney — a frequent haunt of hers for she hopes that the fresh waters will be a first stop for herds — to discover that she isn't alone. the male is draped in a pelage of all ebony and for a moment — the briefest! — she thinks of her departed father and her breath catches in her throat. but she knows ingram is gone to her, off to whatever spiritworld her mother had been stolen away to; at least, this is what she tells herself so she can find some peace. he is too young, too unscarred, too moonspearian.

she recognizes the scent well, now; from her own visit and from hydra and dirge's recent visit to her fen. praimfaya releases her held breath in a quiet exhale and lets out a chuff once she's collected herself to announce her presence to him, if he wasn't already made aware.