It was not an uncommon sight, the black and white bird soaring out from the mountainous realm of Spirane into the freelands. More often than not, it was a precursor to a shewolf with a white hearted face exiting the pack lands as well. Today was one of those days where the shamaness' companion glided out ahead of her, scouting the landscape from above as the shewolf tread the ground below. Of late she had been splitting her time between collecting plants and other materials from the freelands, and sorting, prepping, and storing them within her secret glacial cave in the heart of the mountain.

Moonfeather still felt a great urge and desire to become the pack's Boneknapper, and she had completed the task of teaching a youngster of the pack about general healing and care. More than a year had passed since then, however, and in that year she had not interacted with the pack as much as she would have liked to. It was high time she returned her focus to the pack, and yet today, once again, she found herself beyond the boundaries of Spirane. But something tugged at her, an instinct that called her down towards the Aplos that refused to be ignored. She had learned long ago to listen to these feelings, her shamaness' intuition, and followed it now.

Her jewel toned eyes turned towards the sky in search of Kutcha, brows furrowing slightly when she couldn't find him. Where had he gotten off to this time? He reappeared rather suddenly, flying up from the nearby riverbank rather than descending from above the treetops as he typically would. Moonfeather paused for a moment, waiting for him to come and alight upon her shoulders. Instead, he circled around as if to land and then flapped his wings at the back of her head. A momentary look of confusion crossed her face as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, before realizing he was simply urging her forward. Immediately she picked up the pace, loping towards the riverside.

Coming to a small rise just before the riverside, Moonfeather scanned her surroundings. It didn't take her long to spot the limp form of a pale pup lying beside the river. Kutcha was already soaring down to land beside her when Moonfeather moved to approach. Both were quiet, and the shamaness' footsteps were tentative. Was the child alive? There, the rise and fall of her ribcage that indicated life. Had something - or someone - terrible laid waste to her? As she drew ever closer, her nostrils flared - no blood, no scent of detectable disease. Her ears pricked forward. No, only the deep, practically soundless sound of exhausted sleep. It was a peculiar situation, to be sure, but she did not move to touch and rouse the child. Instead, she motioned for Kutcha to join her. He clicked his beak once, earning a reproachful look, before hopping away from the pup to join his mistress. Together, they moved off a short distance and Moonfeather settled into a lying position. From here they would wait. Moonfeather would remain as sentinel, watching to ensure nothing ill befell the girl while she slept, and waiting for whomever's charge she was to return and look after her. And if they did not? Well, that would be another matter entirely.