The form that straggled back into Ardent was a far cry from the vibrant, active alpha who had left so suddenly. Already slim to begin with, the Finnvi bordered on emaciated, all sharp edges and whipcord muscle with no fat left to shield her. Pawpads toughened from hardship had been scraped nearly bare, claws worn to the quick. A strong limp in her right foreleg was not due to the abuse her paws had taken, but from a healing dislocation in the shoulder joint and a more obvious laceration that wrapped the upper limb up to her shoulder. More fresh scars littered and roughened her usually sleek coat.
The urgent message that had reached her and called her from her duties had come from her family's pack, far from Ardent. She had not wished to bring her children on such an arduous journey, particularly not without knowing the reason behind the summons, so she had left them and the pack in Kapra's hands as she slipped away with but a brief explanation for them. They were Finnvi. They would be strong while she was away, and she knew they would be strong if she failed to survive the journey and did not return to them.
The "urgent" summons had turned out to be nothing more than an overbearing attempt to force her return to the family fold, an offshoot of the original raider pack that was seeking to make a name for themselves. She had declined - politely, for of course one's family was important, but she made it clear that she had no intention of returning herself or her children to the Finnvi embrace. She certainly did not intend to submit to her cousins' leadership after having brought the Finnvi name to far more prominence in Ardent than ever her family had seen elsewhere.
Perhaps more tact could have been used to convey her refusal to submit, but diplomacy was difficult for the warrior and her family as volatile as ever it had been. Perhaps that had been what ultimately triggered it, or perhaps her cousins' distrust of her many years away had made it the plan all along. Both were, admittedly, equally likely. Whatever the cause, the result was the same. Exile from the family, from the pack lands, for her and her offspring to perpetuity. Katja had been grimly amused by the verdict delivered by these nervous, inexperienced youths who bore the Finnvi name here so tentatively. She was considerably less amused when they took it upon themselves to "punish" her for her supposed insolence en masse.
She'd survived, and made a tactical retreat until they had chosen to break off their pursuit. She'd spent extra time carefully laying false trails and backtracking to be certain they were not immediately following her, rather than heading directly back to Yfir, and the extra time and effort took their toll on her battered form. She was not young anymore, and she did not easily bounce back from battle, so as her wounds stiffened hunting was difficult at best. She had little knowledge of healing, too, so could do nothing for the pain and little to speed healing past keeping her wounds clean and using the fork of a tree to wrench her dislocated shoulder into place.
Now, with her reserves lower than they'd been in her life, Katja limped back into the familiar lands of Ardent. Already a cold, hard creature compared to many, her appearance now might startle even those who knew her. All steel edges, razor sharp and focused like clear ice sharp enough to cut. Even the smallest hint of softness had been burned from her in the needs of the moment, just surviving. She was like a feral thing, and her gods walked beside her.
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