Þat mælti mín móðir

Tomie knew that she would stick out among the fighters, while much of her pelt was dark her head and back were white and would reflect the moon's light. Still she stalked behind Víðarr, bright blues narrowed as she went, the usual distrust evident on her face but she'd been allowed to join so she maybe her estimation of the man had raised an ever so tiny bit. They slipped down the mountain like a rolling cloud that threatened a storm. They arrived at the borders of the pack he'd referred to as Avalon. And despite herself, despite the nearly permanently scowl on her face Tomie couldn't help but add her voice to the call, a thrum of excitement going through her, she had basically no practical experience. That said her expression didn't look any less severe as she slipped past the border, scanning for both the livestock they were there for and for someone who may seek to stop her.

"Tomie"