It hadn't taken her long to realize that she was being stalked. The preternatural sense of being watched had made her silver and black flecked female's fur rise. Electricity zapped through her and she had risen on her black stocking legs, pressing her white-tipped left paw upwards to hang in much the manner of a bloodhound. Delicate nostrils twitched as she scented the air, a humming growl bubbling from her lips as she spun in the direction she felt the heat of eyes coming from. But no one was there. Still, she had lived off her instinct since birth. The instinct that told her that Blackthorne was to be obeyed else she would face consequences. The instinct that kept her from interfering in the dominance battles in her youth.

Those same instincts SCREAMED at her right now. So she did what also came instinctively: she called out to her brother. Her lilting song held a note of alarm and caution. A possible intruder in the moors. Then she took off towards the border, well marked by her brother's frequent passing and that of his acolytes. It didn't take long to catch a whiff of a foreign scent. It was almost stark and clean smelling, like freshly laid snow, and unknown to her.

On thing it wasn't - Iromar.

If she waited on Blackthorne or the rest of the crew to arrive then the beast would be long gone. It didn't take her but a second to determine that she would continue, a sharp bark given in the air so that her brother might know what she was up to, and she took off across the border. The angle of the male's scent, as she deduced it was a HE, was northeasterly. Glorall? Diveen? She wasn't sure. The wolf could be trying to throw her off his tail but she clung like a burr, moving swift on her lean, long legs, until she spied a flash of white.

Her lips peel back to reveal her slender fangs but no growl is given as she tries to lessen the distance between them, ears back, fire in her owlish eyes. Just who WAS he and why had he been spying in Iromar. She would find out!