a shield for a soul

Bylgja needed to work. She wanted many things: to find an axe, to find the materials to make one, to do something worthy for her new pack. All of these things itched underneath her skin and she could not slither away from them. There came, now that she was accepted, a sense of ... restlessness and ruthlessness. Bylgja dealt with it well enough, picking through the territory, exploring it thoroughly. Here, there were stones that jutted out of grass. She stuck her head down and sniffed, looking for a rabbit's den, perhaps.

Looking for something.

Her tail twitched, and Bylgja heaved a sigh. A herb would be good to find. Or another packmate, one that she could test herself against. After all, they all understood one another; they were equals in strife and struggle. Bylgja pinned her ears back and gazed across the horizon, tail swaying slightly as she closed her eyes a bit to take in the wind. And then she called, a long, low howl: "Packmates!" Not too far. Her call wouldn't extend across the whole territory. It would only alert those who were in the immediate area, within that key healing range. "Join me!"

The weather was lovely. It would, Bylgja decided, be a shame to miss out on a chance to bond in this prime hour. "I wish for a spar, or a hunt! Come, shield-kin!"