King Elk Forest Who is the lamb and who is the knife.

"Zephrine," her name spoken smoothly, with a timbre she remembered. "You have found us." The girl turns her attention to the stalwart figure moving between the trees.

Their regal bearing is so much like the deified deer of their homeland that Zephrine knows this is a Deorwine immediately; but it has been some time since she has seen family, and at first does not link a name to a face. She does, however, nod her head in to a small bow. She knows her place.

"Finally, yes. I have been searching. Are there others -?" Not a tremble. Not a syllable out of place, nothing to show how disjointed she feels. Any desire to flee has been quashed by the presence of this other wolf.

She knows if she turns tail now she will never find a place among them again, and she cannot fathom another day without a semblance of normalcy. Perhaps here Zephrine could find her way back to the faith - or at the very least, find comfort in seeking out the divine for inspiration.