Finding Her Paws

Álarr stirred in the old garden shed, lifting his head sleepily off the bison hide that made his bed. Outside a great-horned owl was hooting but he didn't think that was the reason he woke, no it was the dreams again. How long had it been since he'd seen Tyrian or Torrent? A year? Two? He hadn't seen his littermates in what felt like ages and every so often his mind would try to convince him that they had died, even though he was certain that if he had managed to survive this long then they surely had.  The healer rolled to his side but his mind was unsettled, unwilling to calm and so he went for a walk. Afi, the pallas cat, grumbled at the disturbance but soon settled back down.

Álarr stepped out into the night, welcoming the breath of cooler summer air. He set out on patrol. Though ranked a healer and not a fighter, there was little denying Álarr's skills in that arena and he figured it wouldn't hurt to add an extra set of eyes to the borders at night.

Night patrols were normally uneventful apart from the occasional coyote and he would have assumed the small woman was a coyote if not for the unusual color of her pelt. She bore a strange chain around her neck and his nose wrinkled at seeing it but he wouldn't chastise another for their choice of attire. He cleared his throat.

"Greetings, you sit upon the border of Avalon. My name is Álarr, can I help you?" He couldn't help but wonder if he had missed her call or had she just arrived? Either way she looked in poor shape and that's when he caught the scent of Ashen. A pack wolf? He didn't fret too much over that for as far as he was aware Avalon was on neutral relations with most packs of Boreas.