Aoibhe was too quick to trust, a flaw of her youth. In her experience so far, which was little, when another wolf was bad you knew right away. You could smell that they didn’t want you near them, or if you found them by accident they would snarl, or give chase. Everything was very cut and dry in her mind, as of yet in her life she had encountered no creature that smiled out of one side of their mouth while snarling out the other. This would be a lesson for another time, and hopefully not a deadly one. So far she had done fairly well for herself, become a kind, happy creature with a patient, playful manner… but so far her heart was as marshmallow soft as she appeared. Not the safest way to go out into the world alone.

Had Aoibhe known the eldest male’s thoughts she would have felt more kinship with him than the subtle fatherly association that had bloomed in her chest within the last few moments. The name of a place called Scotavia would have perked her ears. Another name, Bahamut might have made her whine with joy. Her father’s home, his best friend—these things she knew, had heard tell of dozens of times before. She knew in some small way that they were gone as well, the wolf and the place, more ghosts in her sire’s past…but a connection, even a small one is a treasure to one who is alone.

Hickory asked about packs and young Aoibhe remained silent. She had half a hope of finding Po once more and following him home, though she wasn’t entirely sure. It would be nice to be in a group again, but having known only her family for so long the prospect seemed very great indeed. Knowing nothing of the three packs that laid claim to the habitable places in Moladion, the stocky girl listened intently as Iblis gave a reply to the flop-eared male’s speech. Iromar? She did not know the name, or where it was, or of anyone who lived there. Stay away from Iromar? “Why?” Asked Aoibhe, with the whip-quick curiosity of her age, the question out before Iblis words had even had time to fade. Her ears were perked and eyes shining with eagerness—and a smidgen of dread. What sort of place would someone like Iblis recommend they stay away from? Her tail flicked anxiously and she breathed in the scent of the little wooded area, as if looking for a fragrance that her brain would label “IROMAR”.