It was strange to feel the warmth of the sun on her shoulders, but the light gray shewolf accepted this blessing gratefully. Truly, it had been too long since she had been able to dwell outdoors with warmth radiating enough to envelop her. It created a feeling of comfort and familiarity. It had been almost a year to the day that the Savant had found solace in the Valley pack. And that year had changed nearly virtually everything for her.
Geneva lingered in the long unruly grass which had grown quite quickly and unexpectedly with the coming of spring. The wind blew it slightly and her ears perked when she heard the wind rustling the uneven stalks. It was a moment of peace that she stole, taking a moment of pleasant solitude out of her duties. She found peace in performing each task of the day as well, knowing that her pack, family and friends, were secure as she did so, but she also enjoyed her chances to relax as well.
A howl, melancholy and hopeful, rang through the atmosphere. Geneva sat up, propping herself up on her elbows as she considered the call. It was a strange sound, a blending of different notes, of different wants, it seemed. Curious, she rose soon after and chose a quick pace. She was directed toward the borders, her ears erect atop her head should the call ring out again.
The Savant was without a working sense of smell, and so she had to rely on other means in order to locate the source of the call. Luckily, she knew her pack land well enough to surmise the probable location of the call, and she was moving quickly enough that if the creature who called out waited, she would reach them soon enough. The lime-eyed woman was not disappointed. She saw a red colored femme lounging against a tree at the borders. Almost certain that it was she who had let loose that mournful call, Geneva approached with ease and curiosity. "You called?" she asked mildly.