The howl rose high, echoing across Spirane, and I lifted my crown to listen. It took me a moment to identify the call, the voice of Ailith. I had not seen or heard much of her since first I had begun my reign, but I still remembered the specific notes of her howl. The call summoned me specifically, and it is powerful and urgent. My eyes narrowed, wondering what this might be all about, and lifted my nose to the sky to scent the air. Unfortunately I was too far from her, and the wind was not blowing in the right direction for me to get any hint of what might be troubling her. It matters not, for I swiftly moved into a lope, traversing the well known paths of the mountain so that I might reach her in a timely manner.

It didn’t take long, before I moved down a sloping trail to the border where she stood. She was not alone. A dirty, mud colored wolf paced restlessly just beyond the reaches of Spirane. Ailith’s posture was defensive, and I immediately slowed, taking in the situation, eyes flitting up and down the strange wolf and then Ailith. Automatically my plumage lifted in a show of dominance and my ears pressed forward intently. I stood tall, approaching the duo with a strong step in my stride.

I was hit with a wall of stench, the pungent odor of the foreigner assaulting my nostrils. My nose wrinkled in distaste, and I wondered if these wolves of Iromar were given to actually swim in those putrid waters. Surely not? I disregarded the thought, instead watching the rough movements of the shewolf while speaking to my pack mate. “Ailith? What is the meaning of this?” My eyes never left filthy wolf. I caught the glint of her bright blue eyes momentarily, and saw some familiarity there. Though I did not know many, if any, wolves of the swamplands. Something felt oddly out of place here. “Who are you?” Though I hadn’t met many of the moorland wolves, I had heard plenty of their names in passing. Maybe I had heard of this wolf, too.