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The clearing was loud with chatter. Those willing to hunt were here, ready to act, and Aragon could honestly say he was proud of his pack. Not that he really looked very happy right now as he stared out at the crowd. A couple of knights stood beside him, stone-faced and silent, and had he not also desired his silence, he might have tried making conversation with them.

As it was though, he had far more pressing concerns on his mind. He refused to let their prey get away. Whoever that berserker was, they were going to pay for what they had done.

Aragon stepped forward with a commanding bark and, steely eyed, he spoke, "We need to track this wolf down before their trail gets washed away with the next rainfall."

He paused to eye the group before him, before letting out a gruff bark, "This is the scene of the crime." His eyes burned as he stared down at the dried puddle of blood beside him, "The scuffle between our prey and one of our knights happened over yonder," a paw was outstretched to point out the disturbed ground a few paw steps away, "before they ran off into the trees."

He turned then and nodded to one of the knights beside him. They walked forward and dropped a tuft of black fur down, to which Aragon gestured towards. "Said knight managed to pull this from the fiend during the scuffle. Memorize it's color and it's scent."

The king cast one last look around him before letting out a gruff bark, "Find them, and make them wish they had not crossed our pack."

♠ ♠ ♠

Other story-related notes:
- The scene of the crime is along the border of the pack lands. It's entirely plausible that a loner could be wandering by and decide to help! (just don't forget that berserkers would be chased off if they tried to come near right now)
- Maske is still unconscious and no other visitors have been allowed to see her. Whether she'll pull through is still unknown. She has been on multiple ventures too, and you're free to say your wolf knows her, if you so choose.
- It can be assumed that allies of the pack have been notified of what has occurred as well. So it's entirely plausible that members of those packs would come to help.

Eve had wandered into the area on the tail end of the Fishing season, and had heard tell that there was someone injured and the culprit was being sought after. That a female lay unwaking because she had been accosted.

While Eve knew Berserkers were not welcome in the territory, and had been quick to move from it, she knew a female Wolfdog who was traveling alone that might find answers to her own questions in participating in the hunt, so she found her scent, and inevitably it came to pass that Twillie was in the clearing amidst so many others who were... like her.

Twillie came forward to partake, to help hunt down the wolf who had done this terrible thing, and to bring justice to the female who was now hovering between life and Death's claws, she of course hoped it was not yet too late, and that maybe, just maybe, she could still be saved.

The worst part for Twillie was not knowing if she'd crossed Maske's path in the past - she knew that she'd had a life before the night she'd woken bleeding and in pain with no memory of who she was. Her path crossed Aragorn's and she caught his scent - but there was so many other scents and such an overwhelming cacophany of sound that her muddled mind couldn't bring to the forefront any familiarity.

Her head lowered to the ground and she sniffed, trying to find a smell that stood apart from the rest.

Silke.. oh how to respond to this whole mess. She didn't need to hear a lot, didn't need to know a lot. All SHE needed was to know that this attacker had hurt her precious Einarr and his beloved family. Nobody was allowed to do that, nobody was allowed to make her love hurt. She could only imagine the pain he was in, not knowing if his mother would awake the next morning..

So, of course, she had been all ready to go and do her best to find and happily end the life of this wretched beast of a wolf.

Gold Rush had been on one of her adventures. She was always searching high and low for treasures untold. She would travel to great lengths to get her paws on some shiny loot. As she padded along, the atmosphere began to change. She couldn’t place the feeling, but something seemed off. She continued ahead though, not looking back.

She had been passing between pack borders, when she came across members of Fallguard raising a commotion. It seemed they were about to set out on a hunt. Someone had been attacked. Her eyes were full of concern, when she heard the details. The fact that a berserker had ventured in and mauled someone, was unsettling. Since she had nothing better to do, and she sincerely wanted to help catch the culprit, she decided to offer her services.

She may not look like much, but she was a scrappy fighter. If Fallguard would have her, she would gladly assist. She memorized the scent and appearance of the patch of fur as ordered, before she turned to the others who were gathered. When they began to move out, she walked over to join them. She gave those remaining behind one last look, almost as if to say ‘be careful while we’re gone’.

((Rolling for Einarr, Sága is staying behind.))



Einarr had never felt so useless in his life. So enamored with his precious Silke that he hadn't been paying attention to the other she-wolves in his life: his sister and mother. Skuld was unharmed, but Maske... Oh god, her face... No one knew if she was going to pull through, but he had to convince himself that she would. His mother, who had such a spirit as to raise two pups with a stranger, his mother, fiery in color and poised. He thought so highly of her, had always cared for her and vowed to protect her when he was younger... And now look at him.

He was shaking like a withered leaf in the breeze. His eyes had been fixed on Aragon, their king. The attack against his mother had shaken Aragon nearly has much as it had Einarr, thought the younger knight, but their king was pushing through. Giving orders. Being noble.

Einarr almost wanted to stay behind, nestled right against his mother's side. If she passed... he wanted to be right there with her, but... He was a Knight, the protector of the pack... Or he was supposed to be. He had to avenge her, scary as it was. Scarier still was when Silke had volunteered to join them. Not trained in battle so much as wit, he couldn't stay behind when his mate was going after his mother's attacker.

So, he took a deep, shaky breath and moved to stand beside his mate. He would be brave for her and he would be brave for his mother and the king. They would end this vile creature, avenge his mother and protect the Fallguard. It was their quest, after all.

Sága had been thoroughly shaken when Maske was brought back, so dreadfully injured. The first time she'd seen her, she'd ran off to empty herself of her last meal. After the other Clergys had fixed her up how they could, she returned. She knew she didn't have much claim to being there, she wasn't family like Skuld or Einarr, but Sága cared for Maske. She often regarded Maske as a rival, for their colors were similar and Sága wasn't subtle in her affections for the current King.

Sometimes she would wish that Maske had left the pack to be with the dire wolf that she'd had pups with, so that Sága could have a better chance of wooing Aragon. Now however, Sága would do anything to see Maske come back to full health. Even if she lived, would she ever be the same after her encounter?

So, she remained at Maske's side, only moving when the other three Clergy's bade her to. She didn't want to interrupt their work if they could help heal the foxy she-wolf's wounds faster, but she would however nearby throughout. That's what friends, rivals or otherwise, ought to do for one another and Sága was determined to do that for Maske.

It wasn't hard to hear the chatter that was so loud in the area that Viviana had ended up in. She was curious and when she figured out what was going on she wanted to help out. She wasn't sure if her help would be welcome but she hoped it would be. She was rather curious what this group was like. She frowned at the puddle of blood wondering why anyone would attack a wolf-dog like this. Then again they were smaller then dire wolves and berserkers easy to bully. Which was the reason that Viviana trained herself to be fast and agile. She wanted whatever edge she could get against the larger creatures in the land.

A set of brown ears twitched, listening, within the confines of a bush at the back of the gathering. While he was not really sure what this gathering was about, but it sure sounded interesting. A pair of amber colored eyes peered out through the branches at the larger Wolfdog that was apparently the leader of this gathering. They were backed by a couple others and then there was the growing crowd. Head tilting to one side, Beowulf wondered what had really happened. He watched as one of those that was behind the speaker stepped forward and dropped something on the ground. It looked like a hunk of black fur?

This was curious, fur? From the buzz that was going through the masses, it seemed that someone had been attacked? This was a piece of the attacker and they were going to look for them? Well that sounded like jolly fun, with a flick of his stripped tail, a couple of the branches, but from the sound it could easily be drown out. Buuuut, just to be safe and he wouldn't be attacked as it seemed tension was thick. Poking his head from his hiding place, Beowulf watched for reactions, though it seemed that everyone else was going off to hunt for clues? Well, he could do the same, right?