Whitefish River into your heart, into your soul

Ingram. It was an old name, much like her own, both of them having inherited a verbal power beyond their years.

Exousia tucked the proud name away in the vault of her mind.

I want to know of any packs you are familiar with. The scythe’s answer came readily, without pretense. She would have asked after his own pack, but as things were the handful of scents he might’ve carried with him were faint after his days of isolation. I am dispersed, but solitude does not suit me. I seek for a new camaraderie, and I wish to make an informed decision.