ooc:
Normality was relative to more than one perception, and as it stood a normal state had far from returned to Sangi’lak as far as its Issor could tell. What was to be expected after Jaden and X’ies’s return was completely up to anyone that knew of the triad’s situation. Perhaps either of them thought they would return with open arms ready to receive them. Perhaps a meal freshly caught; a banquet in honor of their safe return. Their expectations would be dashed though to find that the she-wolf was less than accommodating to them. Nearly a month gone without word or contact from them. The state of their leaving still engraved in her mind, and it was this state that greeted them at the borders. A cold indifference, a tightly clasped maw and an erected tail flying the banner of Alpha. They were back home now, but things were far from normal.
Though, on the positive against the negative, normality continued in the form of routine. A hunt after the rains passed to replenish the dwindling stock. A party of one would have to suffice and take down game large enough to feed the one sleeping child left in Asgeir’s care. A marten, if she could track one. The moist ground made it difficult to hone in on a scent, but her senses were as sharp as ever and determination was at its peak.
Veering from the neighboring coast, her path led along the shadow of the great mountain, charging through dense shrub and stubborn flora with nose hovering just above the wet ground. There was something around, though she couldn’t quite place it just yet. It was not a marten as she had hoped, but it smelled of the earth just the same. She shook her head to rid herself of the extra weight of water clinging to her lengthy mane, but the act only served to loosen her poorly drawn back bangs and bring them in front of her eyes again. And it could not have been at a worse time. A stout ear flicked to the sound of movement, the rustled of hastened steps as prey darted away from…something. A quick sniff alerted the autumn female that she was not alone in this hunt and could have very well been disturbing another’s hunting grounds. But this close to the Family border? Her brows furrowed in concern as curiosity led her around to where the little vole had come from. And at the origin of its trail was a female wolf apparently displeased.
The Issor said nothing for the moment, simply raised her head and stared down at the troubled female scrutinizing her form with calm, amber eyes. Her hackles were raised in wary though hidden beneath the impressive mass of auburn locks. And as her norm when she spoke, her voice was soft just barely audible but none the less clear. “Are you alright?”
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