Golden Glade there's a circuit in my chest;; disconnected from the rest

@Smokestep

Chilled to the bone but too stubborn to seek shelter, the dark female moved among the trees silently, contemplating. She didn't often wander so far from the creek where she first met Brienne, but today the anxiety had been overwhelming and she took to following the breeze once more. It was in her nature to roam, restless, rarely sleeping and always watching-- especially when she was stressed.
She knew so little about her broken, beautiful waif, and the girl knew even less about her. The practical side of her worried and gnawed at the flaw, the glaring crack in their already precarious foundation.
Only the painfully icy ground under her feet and the crisp smells of winter grounded Zada now, when her head was far away, wrapped in aching what-ifs and pointless, circular inner arguments. She snorted, suddenly frustrated with herself, and stopped in her tracks. At this point, she was still too caught up in her thoughts to pay much attention to her surroundings.

The trees seemed to stretch toward the sky with spindly wicked little fingers. The seafarer trotted beneath them with a surefooted pace. His shoulders swayed with each step, rolling his figure into a predatory image of white on white. The maples had long since lost their leaves, turning them from a flame-tipped wonderland into an eerie stretch of bleak browns and greys. It made very little difference to Smokestep. He was not keen on remaining on the land for much longer. He knew that the crash of the waves called to him and it was only a matter of time before he was reunited with her cold touch.

Pressing forward, nose to the earth, the marauder found the scent of a stranger in the earth. He trailed after it slowly until he caught sight of a female, no more than thirty yards from his location. Drawing his tongue along his dark lips, Smokestep pressed forward. He held the woman trained in his gaze, weaving between trunks and brush that littered the ground. Each step brought a soft crunch of the snow beneath his feet.

The snort brought his ears to full attention, and the pirate paused in his trek. It did not seem to be a warning. Even if it had, he would have paid it no mind. He'd noted that the wolves in the wilds were touchy folk – liked their distance. Smokestep was an invader. He stood like a pale statue, watching the she-wolf with an intense expression.

Ultimately a sound brought the dark woman out of her reverie, the crunch of snow underfoot alerting her to the presence of another. Zada turned her head slowly, fixing pine-green eyes on the stranger. One ear flicked, but otherwise she remained still, watching.
The other wolf was pale, sizable; he peered at her with mismatched eyes, and she couldn't help but find the strikingly different colors a bit eerie. She had never seen such eyes before. Part of her was slightly nervous, heartbeat quickening just a touch-- he was large and unknown, ghostly and intimidating. She knew her own strengths, well enough to know a scuffle wouldn't kill her, but the idea was still undesirable.
After a few beats she chuffed softly, acknowledging him aloud (albeit somewhat reluctantly).

The dark wolf turned to face him with a wary expression. The wolves of the wilds were careful creatures, he'd noted, but he wanted to open them up to closer encounters. The two held their ground in a standoff until the female parted her lips and chuffed softly at him. Smokestep smirked and took a few steps forward so that he did not seem as much of a ghost on the cold winter background. His ears swiveled forward as he peered on the woman; she seemed fit enough that she could hold her own if things turned south; the pirate was not entirely sure why she would be wary of a passerby. If only he'd had Sandpiper with him. The two Cairn children were a dynamic duo if there ever was one. Nothing could hold them back and nothing could stand in their way.

“Ahoy,” he woofed at her. His voice carried through the air like a sea shanty on a breeze off the ocean. His dark lips curled upward and his lifted his head, taking an upright position. He drank in her scent and noted that she did not have the smell of having been claimed. “What're ye doin' out here on yer own, lass?”