thursday night

With a temporary period of freedom having been granted to her, Aryn was determined to make the most of every minute. Time was something she was sorely lacking and the tender Valentine woman was fully aware that with the plans she had made and the restrictions placed upon her, she should not be wasting moments moving east. Still, east she moved. Toward the salt and sea, toward the land where Abaven once stood and where her friend had won the right to the remnants. Corbie had proven her strength in single combat against another who aimed to see a pack built on blood and war rise instead, and Aryn had to watch as the new alpha took her wolves and left without her. Slavery came with some downsides.

Perhaps she hoped to find Corbie here again, crafting a home for herself and like-minded wolves like Aryn on the ocean shores. Stepping cautiously across the sands, she was forced to acknowledge that the pack and the promise it had held had moved on elsewhere. Unattainable and out of reach, a common theme in Aryn's life.

She had been preparing to leave when the dark silhouette of another caught her eye. The wolf stood facing off against a bird of some sort, a fish between them as they commenced a staring contest that the Valentine woman assumed would not go well. Trotting hurriedly up to the pair, she drew upon what little confidence she had left and sought to intervene. "There's plenty of fish to go around, you know?" Giving the man and bird two separate, tentative smiles, she moved herself slowly into the space between them. "I can help you catch another, if you'd like?" Though the grisly set of scars upon her chest and brow would try and convince one otherwise, Aryn was a gentle creature and very violence adverse. She would do her best to mitigate any brewing conflict if it might prevent the unnecessary spilling of blood.