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.

What a fucking woman. Taller than Caiaphas, thicker than Caiaphas, and pretty as the day was long. A hulking, pretty rhino of a girl who showed up looking like she would tolerate no goddamn shenanigans. She blended with the shadows of nightfall, but her presence alone was commanding. If this lady wasn't in charge, the Amulet wasn't sure who could be. (Wait till she found out it just ran in the family, being this intense)

Oi, she called in fierce greeting, asking what brought her to Dawnbreak; Caiaphas raised a foreleg to her chest and bowed her head in return.

Greetings, stalwart guardian. Have I the honor of speaking with the leader of this... Dawnbreak?

She lifted her head and flashed a warm, charming smile at Tiberii. Well, she was here to pry for information, right? See if this place was good to hole up for the winter? What harm could there be in a little... unrelated test?

I must have the name of a woman so grand to address her properly, she cooed, tail wagging -- ears perked as she waited to see what would happen.

Tiberii.

The name came. Caiaphas could swear she even felt the flutter of something more in her chest, the familiar touch of incantation... but it just wouldn't root.

The Amulet barely listened as the hulking woman explained that she was one of three leaders of this Dawnbreak, though the notion seemed to give her pause. Perhaps she'd just realized how much of the power was shared all of a sudden, maybe she didn't think one of her co-leaders was very good at their job. Maybe she was just trying to remember what the others were called, being the Pillar of Power (man did she look it). The nosey side of the old woman wanted to find out, to snoop, to go and have an easy, entertaining winter with these mortals.
But she was so frustrated, so distressed by the confirmation her own faded mysticism, that suddenly she couldn't stand anything about the place. She didn't even want to entertain the charade she'd begun, but alas, one didn't burn bridges where alliances could remain. Perhaps a time would come where moving up to the chilly north and hiding in a pack would be necessary, but maybe this stupid experiment wasn't worth it; she could hang around the tundra herself and see how cold it got in time. Or maybe she was just internally pitching a fit, and didn't want the reminder of her lost power every time she looked at his big beautiful leader.
That... and did sucking up to some group who didn't know her really sound nice? She belonged in a place where she could either be needed, important, seen... or where she could chase her most base heathen desires and find joy in her golden years. No reason now to act as if she was still playing court, was there?

Did she have a name? Of course she did, but she'd been hoping to be another name richer this evening, she thought sourly.

My name is Duchess, she introduced smoothly with an outward motion of her paw as she rested it atop the goat, lying such second nature she barely realized she'd offered a moniker, I'm simply a traveler who has been lingering the last few days to rest, and I just wanted to pass on a little something as thanks for not chasing me off. Though I doubt you noticed me.

She patted the carcass, internally sighing at the mess she'd put herself in. She'd put hard work into this goat, and it was far too obvious she'd brought it to hand over. She probably could've just said she was passing by, or maybe through, but weaving some web of a lie seemed more than she suddenly wanted to deal with; a certain sense of grief clouding her mind as she lamented her power.