Despite her personal displease at the taste of the salt in the ocean air, the forest huntress of silver white once more finds herself wandering carefully near the borders of Glorall. Talien is on a mission. Thor.

She felt it through their bond one night, something so heartwrenching and painful it managed to drag her from a deep sound slumber deep inside her own den. Thor. She knew immediately something was wrong and wasted no time in slipping from the protective warmth of her own den and charging like a mad wolf across the terrain with but one thing on her mind. Her imprint. He needed her.

She did not know what had happened, hoped and prayed that he was okay... that his wary, charming son Triton as well had come to no harm. Even Innana the mysterious love of Thor's life. Unlike her heartstrings, Thor and her bond was something much deeper and more connected. An imprint relationship was one set up by the gods and conveniently for both she and Thor, their relationship simply worked. They saw one another as something more akin to best friends or siblings... the link they shared allowing them each to keep tabs on the other without interfering. For the most part, they both left each other to their own daily lives, only really needing to see one another from time to time to catch up and allow that bond to rest in the nearness of one another.

However, now, it ringed loudly in her ears, like the thrum of a mosquito that she could not seem to swat away. He was upset. Normally, Talien was rather respectful of pack boundaries and would not have dared to cross the boundary into Glorall uninvited.... but this was different. Thick fur bristled along her spine as ears laced tightly against skullcap, buried in the thick mantle of white fur, almost daring any wolf to stop her with some nonesense about boundaries. This was more important.

It is harder to track a wolf through sand. Talien silently curses to herself over and over again as her pace slows to a near walk, her black nose inches above the ground as she does her best to keep the salty scent of Thor that keeps drifting with each ocean breeze. Vaguely she remembered his den was somewhere close to the tidepools that Innana used so often to gather her herbal supplies, but where.... she could not pinpoint. Frustration begins to overwhelm her with the worry and fear for her imprint that she finally stops herself on the ocean battered rocks and let out a soft whimpered call.... Hoping and praying that Thor would hear her... hear her heart calling out to him... or at the very least some poor passerby might feel sorry for the completely lost forest wolf and send her in the right direction.