The days grew short, and the nights grew cold. Once, it mattered little; once, the ache of her bones could barely be felt, and her limbs were spry, and her sheer will burned hot enough to carry her through the most frigid of evenings. Hell, she'd been born in a chilly December, she knew what it was to be cold. It was not, she suspected, all the cold.... perhaps that's why she found herself on top of a mountain, on the cusp of wintertime.
Oh, and how she thrived under the time of her people. She loved the chill in the air, watching leaves shift in tone, the smell of the frost on the wind. It was a time of harvest, of gratitude, of balance and grounding. It was the calm before the winter storms, it was the preparation for the longest night. It was... when she should be returning home to focus on family, on getting Thornhaven through till the rebirth of the new year. She should've been back a long, long time ago, and she just hoped Harvest was okay. Damn it all, she almost regretted shoving that antler into Daystar's throat; at least he would've been able to be a pillar of support to their child if they were to need it, even if the advice of the boring Summer shit wasn't as flat as his personality. Still... she comforted herself with the fact that she'd raised Harvey well. They should've been more than capable enough to handle the Autumn court without her hovering there -- they'd been watching her do it all their lives!

Her heavy limbs and straining back were a testament to a life well-lived and in this world with less magic, they meant that slowing down for the harshest of seasons might be a wise choice. At least, she thought, to see what it was like to weather a winter here alone.

When the tunnel spit her out, she was in the northern reaches of Mythris evidenced by the already thick sheets of snow on everything; so thick she was sure it was always cold here. Perhaps she'd been thinking too hard about winter! It wasn't... exactly what she'd had in mind, but if she could find somewhere to take in some poor old lady near the edge of the tundra she thought maybe it was a good way to test how terrible the cold season was here. So she headed more south, wandered about the area; three separate pack scents drifted on the whipping winds, and she thought surely this must be the out-of-territory hunting areas or something. The closest seemed clustered around a lake she could see in the distance, but the thought of living on the open plains in the snow and cold all season struck her as unappealing. One either went to the far mountain or between the ranges, and it didn't seem pertinent to go all the way when there was a perfectly good range in front of her with the smell of many others wafting down from its sharp hills.

Caiaphas inspected the foothills for signs of this being some disreputable group or, worse, that they might not even be friendly to potential joiners. But there were no bodies, graves, dead critters or even redundant scent markers far beyond the borders. Just a simple scent line, what seemed to be a simple place. Still, Thornhaven probably seemed as such, too.

The Amulet went away, then, and she didn't come back for a few days. She haunted far enough from the borders she hoped she wouldn't cause a ruckus too early, but she took some time not only to enjoy her last few evenings without duties or responsibility of any sort but to find something nice to bring for... well, whoever spoke with her. Plus, frankly, to debate how truthful she wanted to be on the length of her tenure. Would the leaders want her to throw her life to the cause and supporting the pack, or would they be okay in knowing that come the warmer seasons she was likely to leave again. Hell, knowing that she had every intention of continuing her search for runes.
She settled on a nice fat goat; nothing special for mountain-dwellers, she thought, but it would prove she was still capable of hunting, of caring for herself and others, she was just... creaky, and not quite as strong as she once was. She could weather a winter alone, but she didn't want to.

So she dragged that goat up to the border, tipped back her head, and sung a song summoning whoever would open their heart for her. Night had only just officially fallen, with no hint of light left along the horizon, and the heavy clouds that'd been darkening the sky all day finally began releasing flakes into the gusty evening.