we'll never be royals

Maybe Willoughby was doing what Toril was doing- just exploring. Going where the wind took her. She seemed the sort- or maybe Toril was looking too hard into finding someone similar to herself. She glanced down at the raccoon again, but he didn't look at either of them this time. Taking steps toward the other she-wolf, Toril left him to drink his fill, but at her mention of possible prey in the rocks she turned toward them instead.

"No, I hadn't planned on it. I've had enough of packs to last a while, I think. Left the one I was born into..." For a moment she debated giving the story, only to decide not to for the moment. "I thought I'd see the sights, you know. Travel all over. Maybe once Volkan calms down, I'll visit it too." She had no plans to be bound to scent borders yet- if ever again.

For a short time she was silent as she prowled among the rocks, sniffing at the cracks and the scent of mice that came from them; one, startled, bolted from safety and she was quick to jump on it, to snap it up. A squeak from behind her came and she turned to see Guile dragging another mouse from its hiding place. Others fled and Toril darted after them, killing what she could before they found safety again and then returning to eat.

Not entirely full, but satisfied for the moment until she could try for bigger prey, Toril padded back to Willoughby and settled at her side, picking up the conversation where she'd left it. "I don't suppose you're looking for a pack? Or are you just doing the same as I am?"