as long as she's alive, you're not alone

Dagrún's wounds were finally healing well. She bore scabs from the scrap with the tiger and while a few might scar all in all she considered herself lucky. She paused in her patrol to lift up a hind leg and scratch at the sores on her neck. Ahhhh… that felt good. She'd need to pester the healers for a bit of ointment to help with the itch but that could wait til she finished her rounds.

Dag got to her feet to continue when she heard a young voice screaming out at the border. Something about a lost mother? Uh oh, well that didn't sound good. Dag didn't recall seeing any unusual wolves around that could be a missing mother but she had seen plenty of large predators. Trotting to see who called she saw a black and white yearling with a bleeding knee. "Easy there, you've reached the borders of Ethne. I'm Dagrún, who are you and what can you tell me about your mother?" If she had a description maybe she could keep a look out for the woman, or hell… match it with one of her packmates. She certainly didn't know everyone's sexual history or if they had a few bastards running about.