Grouse Thicket mine, windbag, mine

"This is neutral territory, is it not?"
Her voice rang out as she approached the two, totally at ease. This close to Arthendal, she was at home here, her Isle close at hand. She scented the air, recognizing the male as being a part of Silver Creek (awfully close to Arthendal, was he not) and the female as being a loner, no pack scent drifting from her. Travel worn, hungry looking, most definitely a loner.

Her gaze travelled to the Silver Creek wolf, his scent knowledge from interactions with his leaders. Then, to the loner, crouched over a pitiful kill. She was silent, her stance proud but not especially dominant, gaze cool and demeanor indifferent as she stood a distance aways and surveyed the two.