#runachat

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There are whispers, fluttering through sleet of snow and crackling under worn boots against ice. It is the first time Runa has sensed such a feeling through the camp. It isn't nearly a fast enough revolution for her liking, her mother's heart beating wildly in her chest. They have an idea so why the delay? The world moves much too slow for Runa Visser, her hurried footsteps moving seamlessly through the crowds but swift and light enough to not draw attention to herself. The whispers have reached her ears, and so now she needs to continue them. She grabs onto the first familiar face she finds through the bustle, hand clasping tightly onto Storr's arm and hauling him away from the direction he aimlessly walks in.

"It is me. Quiet." she demands in a snap before he can protest. "The Cross Wolves, the ones that arrived. There is a store of supplies kept, slowly being added to. They are watching the guards." she relays what she's heard and noticed and how all of it points to the obvious conclusion. "Have any of us spoken with them yet? Suna? Aric?" her mind whirs with a way they can join. "You must. Maybe the young ones. Tyr." she can say his name with ease, but the other names fall strangely from her tongue. "Ma-Masson and Teddyr."