Manx's left ear twitched. She knew when the first of the sun's rays hit the earth. Being somewhat condemned to silence opened one's senses to everything else around them. One of her eyes opened, revealing a gray iris. It closed again, as she raised her body to stretch and yawn. Sitting back on her haunches, eyes still closed, she took in the scents that wafted in through the opening of the oak tree she resided in. It was but the third year of her residing with this tribe. It was...homey, to say the least. The pack was alright. She did her part as a warrior everyday, and intended to continue doing so.
Familiar scents of the healer and her companion were strong, although the former's was beginning to dissipate. The faded scents of the Alpha Female and Gowron were beginning to disappear. They had left to go somewhere, then, or so her sharpened hunter's instinct told her. The Moon Teller was still present within the village, at least. Then, the telltale scent of Lagos wafted over her muzzle. She breathed it in and sighed contentedly before silently cursing herself. It wasn't wise to pander after which would never be hers, and she knew this from experience. Another yawn flew out of her and she stood, emerging into the open area of the Camp. It was time to begin her usual routine.
She first shook her fur of anything that had gathered into the gray hairs and went straight for the Alpha Female's den. The leader may not have been there, but she dipped her head anyway, murmuring a 'good morning.' Next, was the den of the Moon Teller. She stopped at the mouth of the den and dipped her head once more, offering a silent greeting. Moving across the middle of the camp, she found Lagos's lodgings. She dared not approach the entrance, however, only sniffing in the general direction and dipping her snout once more. She smiled at herself ruefully. But she could hold the hope, even if it was nothing but a fool's wish.
Manx turned toward the outer limits of the camp. It was just in time to see Naomi dash into the forests and leave two, unfamiliar muzzles standing there. Were they looking to join? If so, then they would be awaiting to gain audience with NightShade, right? Manx blinked mismatched eyes and stood there for a moment. It was still fairly early, and she had been out much later than Gowron, even thought he had left before her. The night was a tranquil being and the shadows had called to her with such a sweet voice that she could not resist. No one had confronted her about her late-comings, she was sure, because Gowron was much more important and his presence was felt. Hers was insignificant enough to go unnoticed and leave her to the night's clutches.
Not that she was complaining. She was used to being in the shadows, anyway.
Manx, having made up her mind, turned away from the newcomers and made a predetermined path toward the river. Once she had a clean muzzle, she lay there at the riverside, yawning once more. It was time to hunt for breakfast, and the two rabbits she had seen on the way wasn't going to feed the current number. Whoever went hunting had probably gone back to go for more. But it couldn't hurt to go looking on her own, would it?
The gray wolf, amidst her own thoughts, found herself staring at her reflection in the still rippling water. She huffed at the mismatched gaze that connected with hers. For a wolf, her frame was average, if not a tad smaller. But she liked that at least; it enabled her to moved through smaller areas with practiced ease. But it also stopped her from gaining any opportunities to hunt for much larger game like elk and deer.
So more rabbits it was.
With that, Manx got to her feet and went around the back of the camp. She wasn't ready to greet the strangers. If they were rejected, it would weigh far too heavily on her conscience, as if she were the one that sent them off. She loved potential new friends, but once she spoke to those two, and gotten their names committed to memory, she was done for.