Wapun Meadow cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments

The way the male spoke was probably quite typical of others who knew his laguage. Perhaps he'd even slowed his words quite a bit for her. It was still too fast for her to keep up, and certain words sounded not-quite-right to her untrained ears. She missed the way that Fen would speak to her, giving her time to mouth each word to herself before stringing them together into something normal wolves could understand. Even now, she closed her eyes and whispered to herself, trying to gather her thoughts and piece together his.

Her tail gave a tiny, fragile wag as she realized what he was saying. He wouldn't hurt her, and his name was Wardruna, and he wanted to know her name. She could do this.

"Sif," she replied, padding a few steps nearer to the male. They were still far enough that, if he lunged, he'd not even come close to reaching her. But Sif stretched her neck as if they stood side-by-side, nostrils flaring as she took in what she could of his scent. Others, said her nose. But that was all she could discern from this distance.