The Sunspire looks like we're in for nasty weather

the proverb was entirely foreign to her, and while she grasped it's meaning, would it not be easier to catch flies with a rotting carcass? she kept silent. he spoke, and she understood, in a way; though perhaps the closest to being alone was at this moment. in the woods, she'd had vaati, no matter how twisted their relation was she had not been alone. here - she would grow closer to her packmates in time, she knew. still, she missed the openness of being with her mother, the lack of walls or secrets. 

still, understanding glinted as her muzzle inclined a fraction, and a beat of silence before she asked,  "did one of the moonspear wolves give you that?"  she knew their exodus from the pack to be fraught with tension, but had never truly considered how many of Rannoch's scars belonged to them.