It was the cold wind that had carried his voice to her. Bris had been out near Flander's Field, on a soul-searching trip to visit her sister's grave. So much had happened in the past few weeks that the white woman found herself in need of guidance. Kol's ghost was a silent ear to Bris' trouble, the cold stone grave marker an empty reminder of how much Bris longed for her sister's advice. But the only voice that offered the younger Stormbringer any guidance was that of the wind, bringing with it something hauntingly familiar in its own right.
White ears had twitched atop Bris' head, her eyes turning immediately in the direction of the sound. The sky was overcast, the wildly turning wind indicating that a storm was drawing near. Yet on that wind, when it would blow from the southwest, rose a familiar scent along with the eerie howl. As soon as the scent hit her nose, Bris was on her humanoid feet, throwing her satchel around to her back so as not to throw her off balance. Concern and elation both drove her into a ground-eating run, her legs pumping to get Bris to the border as quickly as possible.
When she arrived, the Dahlian could hardly believe her eyes. The scent was the same, the coat colors the same, but the male that lay exhausted on the ground before her looked far less healthy than the last time she'd layed eyes on him. Worry wrapped the woman's stomach into a tightly-clenched knot as she ran over, dropping to her knees and taking the half-grown male into her arms in a gentle embrace. "Saul! Saul, what happened to you? I thought you were all with Drey!" Tears threatened to spill from the white shewolf's eyes, but she held them back. Everything would turn out alright. Saul was here, he was alive, though badly in need of some rest and definitely in need of some good food. Bris could find out the details of what had happened in her nephew's missing months after she'd at least gotten him awake and back to the house.
Table by James!