No matter how many Springs came and went, Ambrosia lived her life as any child would. With a glorious fascination for all things living, and an immense curiosity for all that lay before her. Often times she took leave of her home of Diveen, just as often times she returned to make sure all was well. There were so many places to go and see, so many wolves of all different kinds and makes to meet and greet. Moladion was a place full of so many things, and in her life Ambrosia has hardly even scratched the surface. It was how she felt, anyway.

For while there was old blood and old families in the land, all the time newer and newer faces were showing up. Sometimes they come as a family, and sometimes small pairs- and some even come completely and utterly alone. It is those that she so often seeks to find; the ones without a home or without a friend, for she is the perfect wolf to extend a large paw. Graceful legs of the purest snowy white carry her toward a young masculine scent who is alone and brand new. Excitement lifts her white tail across her haunches in its waving finesse, and her voice calls out to him in a short bark of hello. A large pine stands between them, but it is with graceful ease that she rounds it to be met with a pale wolf.

He is white, like her, but holds silver and what appears to be dirt upon his back and sides. It brings to mind her eldest sister Celeste and her awful manners when it comes to grooming, but she cannot help the smile that adorns her features at the thought. But as much as it is for her, it is for him also, expressing her genuine warmth and simple friendly nature. Dipping her beautifully slender skull down ever so slightly, bright eyes of violet flecked with orange and emerald find his golden one and her voice flits forth. "Greetings stranger, I am Ambrosia of Diveen. May I ask your name?" Unlike Celeste, the youngest of the startouched angelic brood knows nothing but polite kindness and warmth. She has not a cruel nor mean bone in her body, and it shows on her features and in her body language.

Amrosia knows she is a few years older than the wolf before her, but she also knows that it matters not. Just last season she had spent most of her time with wolves half her age- and if anything she simply felt like one of them. She was a child at heart and always would be, though instead of in a naive manner it was simple wonderment that filled her. Wonderment at life and all things in it, and wonderment at the pale almost all white wolf she had found. It was a curious thing, to be avidly falling upon those so close to your own flesh and blood.. Fate had a funny way of things, really.