Come out.

That scent.

She knew that scent. Black nostrils flared as she picked it up, not believing her own mind. She hadn't seen him since her father gave her up to that lone wolf to break her. But that scent told her that she was right, it really was him. Would he want to see her? It had been quite some time, at least two years. He was just a pup then, but so was she.

Othello could not help but follow his trail, her elongated tail swinging behind her. She was nervous, a feeling the dame did not know too well. It had been quite awhile since she had even seen any member of her family, since she had no wish to see her father. He was the reason why she was worse now, and suffered nearly three years of hell. Taking a deep breath, she walked up a rise and peeked down the river. And there he was, mashing his ivories together like he was chewing on a bone. The white damsel froze, taking in the sight of her grown up half brother. He was so much bigger than she remembered, he already stood taller than she was and Othello had a year on him. His coat was the same, but it was more coarse and fit his frame. "Imonde?" She called, her pitch high in question. She still didn't believe her own mind.