Sleeping Dragon the rhythm of snow

During her run, Snacha was able to let her mind go blank and think of nothing but the bunching of her muscles, the wind as it tousled her fur, and the air she breathed in and out of her lungs. She enjoyed these moments of solitude when she could free herself of worldly complaints and simply be. Toward the end of her run, a chuff was offered in greeting, and the wolf in question appeared before her. The golden-coated Hush stood out starkly against the snowy landscape; then again, so did Snacha in many respects. Snacha slowed her pace and finally paused, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

"Hei," she said automatically, before realizing that while she may be in Drageda, not everyone here spoke her language. She offered a shrug of a shoulder and continued in the common tongue. "You are Hush, yes?" she asked, looking him over briefly. He was well-made and looked healthy. Whatever other attributes had allowed him entry weren't obvious, but they also weren't her concern. "I am Snacha." She couldn't remember if he knew her name, so she introduced herself anyway with a dip of her muzzle toward him.