Waterlogged and with so many places to go. She had simply to decide which one: Diveen was a place, Iromar another, even the valley and the river where that strange Omen was. But her paws had a mind of their own more often than not, vessels on which she merely drifted through life. Over grass and stone they moved and through the rain, her silver fur stained dark grey from the wet before the sky became canopy and te rain became drizzle. Beltane hardly noticed though - at least, the rain. What she did notice, and what made her pause with a blink, was the sudden shift in humidity and the new sounds of the water against leaf and underbrush. It was as if she had entered a new world, especially after so long confined to Iromar.

With a twitch and a shiver, she began to move once more. Like a grey ghost, she drifted through and weaved her way between each tree as she slipped over the fallen logs and flexed her toes in the wet grass and leaf litter. Each new thing was something to experience wholly - she'd reach out to press her nose against the wet bark or tilt her one good ear up completely to follow the tune of a bird. Watching her, she supposed, might be a curiosity in itself. So entralled in her own world she was that she did not notice the other who tossed about the leaf litter in search of something -

Until she did. And when she did, she paused so suddenly like a deer beneath the eyes of prey. Her deadened ear flickered back and then forth, her head jerking to a tilt at the same time as she suddednly seemed to come back to life. With a quiet hm of thought, she had began to move towards the stranger with her head suddenly low to the earth, nose brushing against the leaf litter like he. She did not utter any words, she merely joined him on his quest though she did not know what for. Instead, she watched him eagerly from the corner of her eye, ever so curious about what strange ritual the Taviora wolf was performing.