The sun burned through the haze of winter and for one short day the weather turned from frigid to something a bit more livable. It was the kind of day in which everyone peeks their heads from dens or nooks in trees with a hopeful expression as they remembered the days of autumn or spring, the days when the world was just right. The days in which one's blood would pump in hard anticipation of a day of adventure. Such a day could never be overlooked for they were the days that the land blessed it's inhabitants with the option to create new memories or perhaps fulfill their destiny. Either way the moment Sorcha awoke she felt a buzz within her elegant body and, with a secretive smile, she traipsed out of the comforting peaks of Spirane and wandered the wild lands between packs.

Her paths were never straight. Over a hill she went and down into across a gulley with the raucous cry of a crow echoing in her ears. Vibrant hunter green eyes watch everything with a complacent look, soaking in the land with ease. It was Sorcha's nature to find joy in the life around her and in the mysteries that it presented her. Every little thing inspired her to some great event and she constantly crafted stories within her head that she might relay to the little ones of Spirane. They seemed to have enjoyed her last story telling and she had been quite proud in their happy expressions. A tale of a hero, adventure, and love - it was the perfect setup for all in the group.

She finds herself traveling south with the mountains at her back until she reaches a shallow river, the water a never ending entity with very little in the way to stop it. It is peaceful here with the sun glistening atop the slow moving water. Calm, the kind of calm that could sink into ones soul and settle all inner disputes. Sorcha finds herself a nice spot a ways upriver and settles down onto her belly near the banks with her head tilted up to catch the scents that drift to her. The scent of the marshes is stunted from winter but it is there nonetheless, along with all the scents of those stray wolves who had passed through.

The urge comes over her quickly and before she even recognizes her intent Sorcha lifts her jaw and lets loose a song that lifts and dives, weaving a tale with her voice without words but that is both sweet and enduring and adventurous.