It had been three days since her arrival… wherever she was.

She had trekked northward, toward an intangible landmark, biding her time until a familiar scent finally wafted through her sinuses and triggered long-begotten memories stirring restlessly in her brain. They were vivid, albeit she would claim overly so, and they proved to be a painful thorn in the back of her mind. Her mate, her family… their hodge-podge band of rogues and strays. She sighed from deep within her aching chest. She and Rowen had been eager for the new Spring-- pups rolling about, yipping, annoying the elders. Pups of her own. Something she had vowed to never entertain until, that is, she fell in love with Rowen.

The she-wolf shook the thought from her mind. Now was not the time to lose herself.

Day one of her arrival had been spent in desperation-- back-tracking her steps until she realized there were no steps to back-track. It was as if she just… landed here.

Day two was a day of recovery. Not rest, recovery, she would remind herself. Her father had taught her that whenever she got lost, it was more important to find food and shelter than meander without intention. After all, it was far easier to find someone near a rotting, stinking corpse than in a featureless storm. So, naturally, Takala found miscellaneous vermin as her prey of choice. Wherever she had been misplaced proved plentiful enough in food sources, at least.

Now, day three. With a full belly, thirst began to set in. She had been descending a rather large mountain toward the valley below, toward what looked like a frozen lake. While snow proved… somewhat satiable, despite the miscellaneous pebbles strewn within, what she really craved was a source of moving water.

Finally, after a graceless descent, she had made it to the lake’s edge. Clawing at the edge, thin fragments of ice began to fragment and break under the weight of her paw until eventually a hole large enough to stick her nose in surrendered itself. Wasting no time, she began to lap at the glacial melt, its frigid grip piercing her tongue. But she didn’t care. It was running water at last.

A dream. Despite her clinging to survival, it was merely a replay of her early adulthood, when she scrambled to survive. With scents as foreign as these, and the mere consideration that she had just woken up here was far too farfetched to entertain. It was all just a long, seemingly endless dream. A dream induced by mind-altering mushrooms, perhaps. Even if there was no recollection of consuming such a thing before she fell asleep beside Rowen. The cold liquid that flooded into her stomach, colliding with the heat of her bowels... despite how real it all felt, it was simply a very vivid, lucid dream. Soon enough, Takala told herself, she would wake up.

Yet, another accompanied her on her sleep-journey.

'Excuse me, miss?'

Her ears pivoted to the source of voice before her cool gaze followed. Another wolf? And an unfamiliar one, at that. Odd. Never had she dreamt of a stranger. She blinked dumbly.

'My name is Rouche, may I come closer and speak with you?'

"I don't know you," Her voice was level, calm, and curious. After all, this wolf was merely a figment of her imagination. Perhaps the dream-wolf would explain where she had known him from if she simply iterated her internal dialogue.

As she awaited his response, her gaze flickered over his visage. He was tall, about as tall as... Oh! Of course! He was a Northerner like her! Not a Southerner like Rowen. He was too tall, too gray. Was he from Boone's pack, and she had just forgotten they met?

"Where have we met before?"

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note: I am retroactively revising my previous post that she is in denial, and believes this is all a dream.