We are made of history

Hana’s visit had reminded the Archer-Lyall the whole socialising thing was a two-way street. Otis had all but chased her from the den, shrieking and hissing as she left, feeling light spirited enough to blow a raspberry back at him as she made her exit. It was a clammy morning, mist laying thick on the ground, but the sky was clear overhead. It should warm up nicely as the day progressed. If she did a round to see who she might run into, (maybe she could even rile Naiche into a spar?) Maybe this morning jog wouldn’t be a waste after all.

Who she hadn’t expected to run into though, was Magnus. She spotted him across the fields of grass and froze, a strange mix of betrayal and… fondness? Waring within her. He had worked so hard to gain the Reaper position just to throw it back in Seer’s face. What was he even doing here?

Well, she trusted the other Armada wolves to intercept a trespasser before now, so he must be here by invitation. Deciding to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, she snuck up along his right side, only noticing as she drew closer just what terrible shape his was in. Concern built in her chest for all he seemed to be getting along okay-ish… But she supposed the best way to find out was to check in.

Throwing caution to the wind she bounded alongside the larger wolf, gently bumping her shoulder against his own as if no time at all had passed between them. "Didn’ expect ter see yer face ‘round these parts again.". She teased.