A Carpathian tradition

The beckoning howl from her father was met with an intrigued expression and perked ears. Its echo carried all the way up the several flights of stairs to her room where she sat brushing her fur. While she was not always the cleanest and well-kept Carpathian offspring, she at least attempted every now and then. Now that she was official Envoy, her looks mattered a bit more than if she had chosen the path of a fighter.

Quickly setting the brush down upon her table, Bramble wastes no time hurrying from her room. Racing down the steps with poise and grace, ah heck, it's Bramble. She definitely stumbled a time or two over her quite large paws, but nothing she couldn't recover from with a wag of her tail and a shy smile to anyone who had witnessed. Navigating easily to the hall, she slides in through the doors and sees her father sitting at the head of the head where he always sat. Looking around for a moment, she pauses, brow scrunching as she wonders where everyone else was. If they weren't meeting in the council room, this must not be related to the pack...

"Tati, Sper că te descurci bine," she says as a smile slowly spreads over her lips though she is still slightly suspicious. Her eyes continue to scan the room as she approaches a seat near his. As she slides the chair out to sit in it, her gaze finally lands on the box he has beside him. Another furrow of her brow as she makes herself comfortable, sitting up straight and looks to him with curiosity. "Am I going to want to know what is in the box?" Her voice is quiet, even if a little suspicious.

"Bramble"