another day, another border

The red forest, the first place she'd stopped running away from since she'd been forced to leave her home, would always be the first place in her heart, but with the new rank came the burden of Roman's trust, came responsibilities beyond just her own conscience. The red forest may have been, to her, the heart of the pack's lands, but the gorge was the most vulnerable of their lands to intrusion. The lake and the peak were both at the far reaches of their territory, but relatively inaccessible to most of Alacratia's wolves. It was the gorge that was right on the edge of the more populated loner lands, and with the more heavily-defended Glaciem lands on one side, it was far more likely a troublesome loner would choose the Tortuga border to cross.

So it was that the eldest of the Tortugan wolves was patrolling the border near the gorge, thick ears twitching back and forth alertly and dark blue gaze wandering loosely over the terrain, ready to catch any movement as she ranged. She noted any scent markings that needed to be renewed; with so few members it seemed that they more often than not went unrefreshed. She noted, too, any prey-sign for later hunting. Winter was coming. They would need the best start they could get on it. Mostly, though, she paced the circumference of the border, and thought. About the pack's readiness, about the need to train both warriors and hunters, the need for more members... anything except Flamesong. The pack came first, and she could not afford to mourn something that could have been.



"Speech"

is a life worthwhile.