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At the edge of the NC claim, checking out the trees Iomair marked. :)
"Some others of us—lost souls that we are—are gathering at the base of Mount Oromocto."
The words played through her head countless times, resurfacing when the world was quiet, and her paw pads began to itch. With Krokar's disbandment so too had her dreams of being an explorer and diplomat drifted away, but the prospect of another band in the wilds, refugees, drew her interest. Caledonia was a place of courts and lords, and it had fallen to fire-wielding attackers much like Krokar had. How could she ignore their presence in such a small world?
That—and Athras had said some curious things she wanted answers to.
"Well, Toklo, here we are," the brown wolfdog said, planting her feet and motioning toward the low, looming mountain. Behind her, on all fours with something like a saddle-bag strapped to his broad back, Toklo wagged his tail eagerly. "'less they're on the other side of the mountain, I suppose."
He sneezed laughter at that, then thrust up his chin in encouragement. He brushed past her to run down one of the slopes of the valley, sticking his nose at the base of fir and spruce trees. His curled tail wiggled over his grey-patched back; he seemed encouraged by the scents he picked up, and pressed onward.
At her Optime height, Willow noticed another sign first: claw marks in the wood. Her fingers traced over the fragile skin of a paper birch, brows lifted.