Hideaway Strath calling to join them the wretched and joyful

Whrist followed along the outskirt’s of the pack territory however rather then scent mark with pee, she stopped occasionally and kicked dirt spreading scent with her paw pads. She didn’t want to pee while she was in heat because that might draw the wrong kinds of attention to the boarders of the pack lands.

These days the grandmaster had avoided her, she was getting away with any and all her horrid behaviour outside of the one incident with Simmik’s brother. Or perhaps because of it. She’d never know for sure, nor would her ask.

A raven well above the white ghost in a tree cawed once and the black wolf then paused in her trek to tighten up the packs boarders, looked up to the bird then her white blue gaze then fell upon the slight wolf. With a inaudible huff Whrist attempted to move on, hoping to slink away unnoticed, though she’d stop if she had to, she owed the halfbreed that much.