[joining] dropping the anchor down

The morning's cool air was whisking around a silver canine figure, prickling her pelt slightly in an altogether not unpleasant way. The fresh scents woke Nox up, and in this land she was more alive than any other during her travels. Of course, something disturbed her; some scent or another that was altogether too familiar and yet she somehow could not place. She didn't give it any time or power though; why would she, when she could simply delight in the pleasure of this land that restored something in her that might have otherwise died.
Even though her pelt was undeniably soft, even from a distance you would label her hard and cold. Her stance was stiff, and her muscles were tense from habit. She had the unmistakable air of a warrior, a leader, and something else, something that you couldn't put a name to. Whatever it was, she did not move in a hard or cold way; it was fluid and graceful.
Nox began to ponder if anything dwelled by the bay. It was certainly habitable, or else Nox herself wouldn't be here. There was definitely prey. Maybe something else, something almost familiar, something like a-
Now Nox suddenly pulled up short. The scent that had been bothering her for quite a while suddenly cut across her memory, of a different place and a different time, but still that same scent. Wolf pack. Something shot through her, something too fast to be recognized and yet it warmed her from the inside out. She was no longer a statue, icy and cold and hardened from her travels, but living and alive, full of purpose and perhaps longing. This new pack was a sign, a sign that someone could live here, maybe even that someone could accept her without making her do (or watch) any bloodcurdling rituals that ended in death. Nox even barked out a soft laugh that was harsh and scratchy from not being used. She opened her throat to let out a howl to alert them that she was there and then-
Silence. Ringing, disappointing silence. Who would accept a ragged, tired wolf like her? How would she know if they wouldn't do something barbaric (and yet completely predictable)? She didn't know anything about this pack! They could kill her!
Yet suddenly, a stilling calm settled over her, and a very rational, blank voice reasoned with herself. You have been traveling for more than half your life, it told her. You're cold. You're tired. You're beaten. Death would be a mercy at this point. Maybe they will even let you join. Stop worrying, and howl already, it finished with a snap of impatience. Nox knew she would heed that voice. It was her own, and it was the only one not panicking or rejoicing.
Cautiously padding several yards forward, Nox opened her throat once more and howled, reveling in the finality of either home, or death.