Stone Circle There are no gentle ladies here

Inkeri wore her wounds upon her soul and her body. She had fought for her very existence since teh day she was born. She had been brutalized and abused. She had been chased and chastized for choices she had never made. She had lost those she loved more than anything and she was still standing. Still fighting.

She stood upon the borders watching, waiting. Another patrol done. The leaders ahd asked and she had delivered. She would do what she could for this pack and these wolves. Even if she had to fight, something she truly hated to do. She would protect them all if she could.

With only one eye left following the attack, and the other semi-shut due to injury, Cygnet's vision remained compromised more than 50%. Still- more vivid than anything was the image of Sven, now that he danced in her dreams, delivering blow after blow in the fight as she relieved the spar, softening and bowing his head to her as a gentleman might once the fight was over. When she rested, he rested alongside her in the darkness where her eyeless socket could not see; there, in the darkness, he was always with her. 

She was comforted throughout her sorrow by the mere thought of him- and decided that the time had come for her to seek him out again. 

But it was not Sven who she saw first when she approached the borders, but a lone, silver female. Cygnet squinted, turning her head to the side so she could inspect the woman. She couldn't recall seeing her among the others at the hunt; if she had been there, perhaps she had kept to herself. 

Being the socially inept creature that she was, she offered little more than a grunt and a brisk nod of her head in greeting. Came to see Sven. She stated, and licked her lips expectantly.

A youngling came with viscious wounds upon her face. Healed wounds, but wounds none the less. Inkeri felt sick to her stomach, and she hoped above all hope. That it had not been a parent to inflict such damaged as her own parents had done. That was a different type of pain.

Inkeri dipped her head. I am Inkeri. Inkeri. I can get him. Him. Would you like me to howl? Howl?

She thought of Sven then. He must know this one. Perhaps she had met him at the hunt. Inkeri had not gone, she had decided to stay where she was comfortable. Where no one had to listen to her speak. And where she would not search in all the faces for her sister, for Merry, for her daughters. She would not feel so alone.

Cygnet was grateful that Inkeri was brief, and did not greet her with suspicions or questions. She'd been prepared to defend herself should she be interrogated about her intentions, or judged on account of her looks. Instead, she found herself nodding abruptly, and grunting agreeably to the woman's offer, and sat down, prepared to wait. 

She nibbled at the remnants of a burr stuck to her chest, pulling free the little hooked seedlings that had gotten caught on the way to Kvarsheim. She made herself look busy, concentrated- so that small talk might be discouraged. Nevertheless, she kept one ear canted in Inkeri's direction, resigned to reply if necessary.

I

I'm gonna just pop him in here. The glory of having your own charies send messages lol

Sven had heard the howl. He met Inkeri with a brief brush of his muzzle and the quiet she wolf quickly dispersed. A small smile. Though he felt horrible at the site of Cygnets face. Who did such a terrible thing.

But he largely ignored it. Refusing to focus on it. Instead a small smile. Hey Cygnet!