Separation Anxiety

The call came to Banshee as a pleasant surprise. She had been carving away at another spear in the making. Fangs grinding against the tender wood of a fallen tree branch. Resting just outside of her new and improved den the babe stood, spear between her jaws, and tucked away the weapon for safe keeping. There was no reason to bring it with her. With more practice Banshee hoped to be able to make good and proper weapons. Maybe one day she'd gift one to her siblings or even make a supply for the Armada. But, for now she'd keep her practice pieces hidden in her den beneath furs.

Long tan legs carried the tall and lean Wolf to the border. It wasn't long before the promising sight of her beautiful sister came to view. Pale alabaster fur tainted with gentle grey strikes. A grin fell upon Ban's lips as she approached. There was little hesitation when the fanged gal moved in attempt to embrace Recluse with a nuzzle to her scruff. "Sister." A pause as Banshee aimed to back up a tad. "Is everything okay?"