The dark worg paced back and forth, kicking herself for losing track of the beast. Serves me right for leaving such a task to a pup, she growled softly in her mind, then stopped short, the sound of pawfalls catching her attention and causing Splyttfang to perk her ears hopefully. The young grey timber wolf bounded into the Felwood thicket, panting slightly from the run. “I must go,” she chuffed softly to him, and Sterling shook his head slightly in dispute. “You can stay,” he barely whispered. He was answered with a shake of the ancient femme’s tattered, shaggy head. -Three Days Prior- ---