Pip

Pip has always been an odd wolf. Though her duty to the forest was as firm as ever, and Birch's teachings of the art of healing had well sunk in, her gaze still sought the horizon, her head always in the clouds, constantly sniffing at the air and yipping at the slightest sound. Fascinated by the intricate flakes of snow that drift down from the endlessly blue sky, she would often leave the forest and take to the tundra instead, despite its lack of herbs. The feathers that she brings back instead are as light as the clouds and white as snowfall, as if she intends to bring back a piece of the arctic itself for her pack. Some think her irresponsible, others shake their heads at her antics, and yet, no wolf is better suited to her duty as herbalist than she.