Ankyra Sound it's such a bad town for such a pretty face

Set on the 9th before the brunt of the polar vortex sets in (for my own reference).

Ankyra Sound was much farther north than she anticipated, and she attributed it to her spotty memory of the area and the weeks proceeding her disappearance the first time around. As she descended the cliffs, she almost hoped to catch a glimpse of Caiaphais, but found nothing but old scents and ancient ghosts of a territory long abandoned by the vestiges of whomever deigned to remain after the Sirens departed. The sea-witch had taken her in, fed her, warmed her, and gave her the security of a pack for a few weeks while she recouped from the ordeal that seperated her from the Nereides the first time around. The ordeal she still could not remember.

But it didn't bother her now as she plodded through the woodlands that rimmed the coast below of her, albeit brief, home. There were traces here and there that gave her reason to believe that it survived much longer than the Sirens presence did, and she wondered if Caiaphais was the source of that success. The Sea still rolled in, the winds still whipped up the cape and over the cliffs; it was inhospitable now with the season and the proximity to the pack to the north. She had no illusions of settling here. It only served as a reminder of her failure to Aktaie and Aella. 

A snapping twig broke the peaceful silence and her entire body immediately tensed. Her hackles lifted like spines, but her display was shortlived as a buck and his doe broke out from the undergrowth and balked at the sight of her. Akantha watched passively as the buck stared her down before quickly herding his female away from the predator. Though she was hungry, she was not in the mood to take her chances with those tines.

She seated herself abruptly on the snow and lifted a leg to dig at an itch behind her ear, wondering if she should return to Meteora sooner rather than later.

Even as the days got colder, Florence doesn’t much bat an eye. They remind her of her days in Azgeda where the ice had been their home since as far as she can remember. The chill still gets to her but she keeps her feet moving and out of the water as much as possible. Following along behind Akantha for whatever reason had kept her busy the last little while but she doesn’t know how far the woman is going. There is little Florence knows but her wonder has not stopped or forced her hand to leave just yet.

Deterred by the scent to the north, she freezes once she’s close enough and the snap rings through the area. She sees the deer first, shuffling out of their line of sight and her pale eyes turn toward the darker wolf just ahead, picking up a foot to continue forward when she realizes she still hasn’t been noticed. She knows her way around any other icy tundra and the coast is proving to be no different but eventually she chuffs to make her presence known. The woman, as little as Florence knows, seems important enough to Meteora that their time to spend together feels much needed.

Akantha dropped her leg at the sound of snow underfoot whipped around with tears pressed forward and teeth bared. But as quickly as she'd thrown up defenses, she dropped them; her hackles settled, and her teeth slipped behind her inky lips at the sight of the familiar face, though her tail still arched dominantly over the dark of her spine. It was Florence! Blessed Mother, she was glad for her presence, though curious as to the reason behind her appearance. Florence, though not borne of the Nereides, was an example of how useful outsiders could prove to be with enough time and patience from both parties. She was a kind soul though the earthy Siren knew little of her. 

Her nose flared again to draw in the scent of salt and sea before she strode forth to press a gentle kiss to the pale she-wolf's ear. She invited the other to walk with her, and together they patrolled the old pines that Akantha once called home.