To her great displeasure Lyra had been asked to rest by her family, the others insisting they would carry her chores until she was entirely well and without a lame arm. As they loved to remind her, emergencies would not wait for her to be strong again, but she did not think her work so dangerous to warrant the extra caution.
Instead she remained at home for most of her time, bored and restless as she tried to will herself to heal to their satisfaction. She thought nothing of the scratching and obviously canine whines at the door that day, thinking perhaps that one of her uncle's hounds had snuck his way home early. Once she'd gotten it open, though, she physically jumped to see the young wolf there on the other side.
By his friendliness she immediately assumed he was the youngster from earlier in the week, his beautiful coat she could only associate with him and the other wolves of the pack. "What are you doing?" she scolded in a whisper, as if any louder might summon her family home early to discover him. "What was your name? Oh, goodness... Wess. Westley? Wesser! Wesser go home!" Lyra chastised him gently, crouching down to be more at his level. She struggled horribly with trying to be firm with him, but her affection for the young male could not be helped as she instead found herself reaching out to pet at him, leaving the doorway only partially blocked. "Go home, it isn't safe for you here," she pleaded with him.