Wild Berry Meadow Despite

Though movements caught her eye, she so wished instead it would melt into the bleak whiteness and simply not be a thing.  She was at the wrong place versus the wind to be able to tell where (or what, but the greyish back she could see over a clump of snow-laden bushes was either a wolf or the largest coyote she'd ever seen) they came from, so Godot was instantly believing that she was being hunted by her previously-mentioned necromancers.  Certainly she was doomed.

She uttered a quiet whine, likely inaudible from where the other wolf was, frozen for the moment and unable to flee.  Running was likely a bad idea anyway -- if she was being hunted that'd make them chase her down faster, right?  It was only when her legs started to behave again and she lifted a paw off the ground in preparation of turning away and slinking off that she was noticed.  And approached.

It was absolutely terrifying.  Here she was, faced down with a necromancer that had managed to keep up.  She thought she'd been so stealthy passing by their lands!  Alas, no, here Godot would die, she better just accept --- wait, was the wolf not from there?  Her body twitched as if she'd sneezed, processing the data that was then available.  No.  This woman was not a necromancer.  Some of the tension through her shoulders released and she shifted her paws slightly on the ground.  Her posture was slightly submissive but entirely uncertain, and being blessed with such awkward social graces, her reply once they were in conversation-range was rather flat.  Why are their kind allowed here? It was, perhaps, a little indignant, but coupled with a subtle flick of her nose towards the territory she'd passed, she'd hoped her intentions were clear.

Or they likely were until she spotted another approaching.  Certainly this was the necromancer!  Startled, she filled the void with a few broken words, Or I should -- uh -- yeah, and skittered away a yard or two before her brain would have a chance of realizing that no, that was not a necromancer either.  But there were two of them!  And they smelled kinda the same.  Was someone else hunting her?!  She crouched slightly behind a berry bush, as if it were a shield, unsure if she should trust the amiable attitudes of the pair.

Godot had stayed alive by living on fear or causing it in others.  No sense changing now.