Dragoncrest Cliffs Isaiah 43:18

It was strange to stand before this male now and attempt to make the anxiety within her vanish. She was safe here, he was a member of Thuringwethil's pack, and yet still the avoidance of others stuck with her. She was nervous to speak with him and also excited. She wanted to meet the members, wanted to prove that they had been worth the alpha's time. She wanted, partially, to matter again to a pack. She had craved companionship, and now presented with it, she was fearful.

His name was short, but his title was from an unfamiliar tongue. She thought, slightly sadly, of the language of the Malkaria, of the little of the tongue that she had been learning. She had enjoyed the way it had turned on her lips, the way it seemed so more elegant from normal words. This language was different, not displeasing, but gruffer somehow. More rugged. "Wocha," She repeated, a smile of self consciousness covering her face at the new language and her attempt. "What is that? Does Drageda have it's own language?"

He asked of her time alone and she nodded and shrugged. "Longer than I would have liked to be, considering my children." At the mention of the children, however, she straightened further and her smile grew. "They were born before the big snow came. They're nearly five months old now, my sweet fighters. It wasn't long after their birth that my old pack splintered, they've spent nearly all of their life outside the den without a pack." The glimmer dulled a little as she thought of it, she only hoped what had happened hadn't harmed them. She hadn't kept them alone on purpose, but she'd had to make sure they were strong enough to travel. And then she had to make sure they found a good home. 

At one time she would have recognized how much she babbled, but with her lack of interaction it all seemed to tumble out. Politely, she tried to ask something of him. Perhaps he too had children they could play with? "Do you have any children, Dio?"