Blacktail Deer Plateau A broken oath.

Lately Rosalyn had held little patience even for packmates, so strangers on the border she had no time for.  If the call hadn't been close enough that avoiding it was a nuisance, she would not have answered it.  As it was, she had no intention of staying long... except, for some reason, this wolf struck her as familiar.

Rosalyn pulled up short in her approach and eyed Minerva blatantly, trying to figure out where they might have encountered one another.  Her memory was fragmented at times, nowadays, and though the important details stood sharp as others, faces could be lost.  Perhaps she was finally growing old.

Finally she smiled, and shook her head ruefully.  You seem familiar.  I might be mistaken.  It wasn't as if her type were unusual.  My name is Rosalyn.  What do you want here?