Matianak had yet to return to Glorall after meeting with her brother. She had shared news with him and he with her. She pondered all the possibilities, ramifications, and other such nonsense as she meandered about. The woman also wondered how successful Blackthorne would be with all the wheels and cogs that turned Moladion. There were too many possibilities and too many unknowns for her liking right now. That would change. That's why she decided to drift towards Aplos River.

The river fed the moors of Iromar, her brother's chosen stomping ground. But it was not him that she sought out today. There was no need for so soon a meeting between the siblings. No, instead she was hoping she might pry a bit out of his commander. Zharko was an interesting wolf for different reasons. He was practically a gift for Matianak, though she had yet to really utilize that to its fullest. She mused over that momentarily before taking a dip in the chilly river. Winter seemed to not have touched western Moladion as it had the east.

It was not as cold as she was expecting it to be, which made the swim across nearer to Iromar much easier. She could smell the swamp from here. As she drew to shore, Matianak's nose crinkled. It was less pungent at a distance, but it was definitely there. The pale wolf shook herself free of excess water clinging to her thicker winter coat before pressing on again. She would find him, or maybe Zharko would find her given how close she prowled to Iromar.