At her age, it only seemed natural that she had become accustomed to the sound of a challenge. Of course, she had always expected Daenerys would return one way or another - she had felt a great sadness at her departure and now, she felt a sadness not just for her but for Tithe too, who had done his best to provide a safe home for them all against the odds. Whatever the outcome, Niviaq supposed there would be blood and that there would be hurt feelings on either side too, just as she knew there would be wounds on her daughter's soul no matter the circumstances. But, they had always survived. They had always thrived. No matter who claimed the mountain throne at the end of the day, Niviaq understood that she and her kin would not only remain put but also remain tenacious. It had become a natural part of her now; years ago, she had lost the timid, flightiness of youth. Change happened. It could not always be avoided, just as it was not always bad. Still, she felt for her daughter.

It is why she had sent Sila with her down the slopes when Daenerys had announced her victory. Her youngest daughter had done so much for her mother and so, Niviaq had done her best to set her daughter on a more independent path as she grew. By accompanying her sister to Tithe, Sila would quickly learn the realities of pack life and battles - a difficult lesson perhaps but everybody needed to learn it in due time. As for herself? Well, she ought to keep her own duties in check. After all, she had served as a healer for some fifteen years and she doubted a little ache in her legs or hips would be a thing to stop her. It merely slowed her as she jogged slowly towards the gathering, a pelt peppered with seeds and pastes dangling from her jaws.

She breathed a sigh of relief, though, when she saw Sleekwing's young daughter already at Daenerys side. It gave her a moment to slow and compose herself, slowing her breathing as she paced closer with a bowed head of greeting and respect. From what she could see, Daenerys had fared well despite the violence that had surely occurred to reclaim her territory. Her wounds were not grave and, at a glance, seemed superficial enough that she would even be able to hunt again in no time. Niviaq was glad to see it, though it incited a sudden weariness as to Tithe's condition - somebody always fared worst. She could only hope that Sila would be able to handle whatever wounds she found on the man.

"Welcome back, Daenerys," she ushered her words in with yet another stout bow, having shuffled closer and alongside Moonfeather as she began inspecting the wounds at a distance. "Please excuse my delay -- winter leaves me weary these days, it seems." She grinned, warm and gentle, before she acknowledged each and every other wolf in their gathering with a glance and a tilt of her muzzle. "Would you care to be tended to now? Your wounds seem as if they can wait. I imagine you have much to say and do and I wish not to get in the way of such things."