Early dawn light filtered, as the small healer slowly moved towards the pack of Seracia, a scent she had lightly recognized from the stranger who had helped her move Isardis to the lake after his battle with Chrysanthe. In her memories she went back to the battle, and remembered the snarls, and the horror that swept through her as she watched wolves rip into each other, watched as her own king was ripped into. No healer ever liked battles, most didn't even want to be there, but she had followed her pack that day, just in case. Isardis had declared war. War on Valhalla, and while she herself wasn't sure exactly of the alliances that Valhalla had, she knew it was about to get bad. That hadn't phased her, in her decision to be polite. That hadn't swayed her decision to leave in the early morning light. The stranger who had helped her, had risked his own life, in the battlefield to get to her injured king and while she resented his intrusion on her job, she had not be vain enough to believe, that she would have been able to move Isardis all on her own. He had helped her, and he deserved the thanks that he would get. At the edge of the border, she was careful to stop at a respectful distance, and she rested back on her haunches, glancing around her warily as she titled her head back, a high soprano note leaving her maw calling to the stranger who had helped her previously. Warily she wondered if someone else would answer her call, and wondered if this would be well-received or if she had made a very bad mistake. Nerves on edge, she sat, and waited. Speech...

The man would be up to his usual duties early in the morning, and that consisted of tending to his plants, then taking a relaxing bath. It was getting colder due to the changing weather, snow now packed the earth down with its chill. His plants were almost shriveled into nothing, and of course it was frustrating, but this happened every winter, so he was used to it. With a sigh he would turn away from his buds, and the route to the hot springs would take over his mind. He didn't enjoy taking a dip in the lake during the winter, so he made his way to the hot springs every morning where he could be indulged in warmth, and possibly, some company. Paws kissed the snow as he made his way toward the border, and as he came within yards he could hear the howl calling for his presence. Who could it possibly be? With a quick turn he would start moving in the direction it came from, which seemed to be not far from his position. As he came closer her scent would whisk across his nostrils, and he would inhale it. It was Eris, the female healer who had helped him with Isardis, the ivory king. His lips curled into a snarl, but no noise was released. Why was she here? Was she here to tell him about her kings plan to harm his one true love? No, he wouldn't let them harm Chrysanthe, he would die before he let that happen. "Eris? What are you doing so close to Seracia's borders?" He would ask as he came closer, stopping a few feet away from her. Why was she here? "Speech"

She waited, her fur prickling along her spine. She was uneasy, exposed on the borders. She didn't know how this pack felt about Glaciem, could this be an unnecessary risk on her part? Lost in her thoughts, she missed at first when a scent wafted through the air, and flinched when a voice spoke. 'Eris? What are you doing so close to Seracia's borders?' Seracia, so that was the name of his home pack. Interesting. She turned on the stranger, her eyes landed on a tawny wolf. Dipping her head in greeting and out of respect, she spoke. "Er.. I don't even know your name." She murmured, her voice light as she looked at him. That didn't really matter, but the fact that she didn't know was actually troubling her. After all he had risked himself, for her king, and that meant that even though Isardis had been less than grateful, the albino lord owed the wolf before her. Speech...