A strange, hackles-raising shriek echoed across the Dancefloor where Katja patrolled. The viking paused a moment, masked face turned impassively toward the sound as it wound down. A superstitious chill crawled up her spine, and as the sound faded she turned to lose steadily toward the unfamiliar noise. It may be a portent of danger, but she would not avoid it. Better to know than run from it.
The pair of figures that came into view suddenly became clear, and Katja nearly stumbled as she missed a step when they became suddenly clear. It was impossible. Raisa.
She stopped a short distance away, ears pinned in uncharacteristic uncertainty, to regard the Xanilov silently. Silver eyes roved the familiar form, seeing the scars that spoke of hardship and suffering and she felt sick. Not only had she failed to protect Raisa herself, but... Raisa had given her the charge of protecting her children and her pack, and she had failed in the first when she lost the pups to Virgil and with Sindri and Sigmarr going missing, and she had failed Raisa. Face impassive, preparing herself for the inevitable fangs and having no intention of stopping or retaliating against the entirely justified attack, she stepped forward. "Raisa," the name rolled from her tongue on a plea. Do not be a trick of Loki, be truly here. even with the certain pain it was better to know Raisa was alive.
