A Beeline isn't Straight

Back home...
It sounded strange to her. She had been gone a while, she hadn't meant to be gone so long. This was certainly stretching the boundaries of what it meant to be a pack wolf. Mod *had* said she could wander as she wished... but Wenna couldn't deny she felt some trepidation. She didn't know if she had been gone too long or what.

She wasn't used to having a family or others depend on her, raised as a nomad she hoped Modesty and Deluge would understand. She did see Mod and Scald during her travels and even assisted in the birth of Scald's darling syndicate children. She had lingered some more though, down in the Red Bud nook, and some in the lands of Armada and wound her way around every which way on the way back.

The smell of the growing spring heather filled her nose. She picked her way through the tufts of grass over the moors. The mists felt like a welcome cloak though, swathing her slender form in a thin blanket of clouds. What made the minds cling to the earth here so long? Even when the sun was high, the mist persisted here.

She still didn't have a satchel to keep herbs and maps and trinkets. She recalled someone in the pack had such maps and even had some that highlighted locations for herbs! Who was that again? She should have been in to see them before she galavanted away to explore. She had never known a time when she needed a map, she just spent her time getting to know a place, getting lost, and then finding her way to a new place and connecting them with landmarks and directions, the sun's position, and the stars. Orienting herself around a singular place was still something new to her.

She crossed the moor, on a mission toward the ravine. She'd of course welcome an interruption on her way.