She had been bothered by Daenery's disappearance though she had been unable to travel too far from Spirane's borders in search of a scent; still, she had listened out each night in hopes of hearing some kind of sign. For now however, she had taken it upon herself to keep busy scouring the slopes of the mountain in search of herbs and plants, digging for roots and basking in the summer sun; she had the right to enjoy old age, she figured, and nobody had complained thus far. In fact, she had found herself a rather pleasant spot beneath one of the lower ledges of the mountain; the sun hit the rock just enough to warm it and yet, she could rest predominantly in the shade. Her legs poked out into the sun, four white sticks as she drifted in and out of sleep. When she could not sleep, she thought of many things; she considered her daughters and sons, Pan, Daenerys and Roman, of all the things she had seen in the past, Paracon...Litherum... she had never felt old, not truly, and yet she had to chuckle to herself when she realized just how wrong it was to not feel her age. She had survived fire and water; it felt wrong to fall victim to something as simple as an aching joint or tired muscles.

Slowly, she woke completely, her nose having begun twitching at a peculiar scent as the lowland breeze rushed up the mountainside. It smelt of blood, both old and new, and it ran thick with the scent of Tithe. It made her ears flicker instantly, her eyes wide with uncertainty as soon as she discovered it. She even hurried to her paws, her joints groaning from the effort but familiar with the urgency. Tithe had been absent and so, it did not bode well to suddenly find him on the breeze, seemingly amongst the company of lupine blood. She began to tail the scent as it lead her up the mountain, and so, she felt a tinge of guilt knowing she'd not arrive so soon. She'd need to tell the pack that, she thought for a moment - no more mountain climbing while injured, not until they had a younger healer trained and ready at least.

Still, she powered up the slopes as best as she could; she stopped from time to time to seek out blood drops, sniffing them with a frown before she moved onward. Eventually, she found his den; the blood seemed to reek less now, seemingly drowned out by his markings. Slowly, she approached the den's mouth (she always displayed such caution around the injured, fully aware of how volatile they could become) and let out a hushed bark into the depths. She waited a moment before she tried again, this time having called out into the den - "Tithe? Are you in there?" She had an inkling he wad and yet, she had to be sure he was conscious. Who knew how much blood he had lost! What condition he could be in!

She had half the mind to simply enter. In fact, she took a brazen step forward, her dull nails skidding along the stone as she stomped her foot down, asserting some kind of command - honestly, they had to start respecting that she was not some spritely pup sooner or later! Besides, she felt an obligation to ensure Tithe's utmost health. After all, he was special, and not simply to her or her daughter but rather, the universe itself. Imprinting was fate, after all, and she knew fate could be cruel.