Swiftcurrent Creek On melancholy hill

Ah. She couldn't remember giving her name to anyone but the leaders, but word clearly spread fast in the Swiftcurrent pack. She'd kept to herself during the short journey from the woods to the creek, so it was no wonder she didn't recognize Rysk or know his name. In Grimnismal, no one knew anyone unless they met face-to-face. Come to think of it, they weren't as tightly knit a pack as Wylla had imagined. In fact, they were a downright mess.

She didn't know how to function in a pack that actually worked together.

"Sorry," she mumbled, although she didn't really mean it. "Not used to wolves talking about others, I guess." She still wanted to reclaim her fishing spot, but took a seat on the bank instead. Wylla wasn't a great conversationalist; she watched the water for a long moment before saying, as if it was actually a good topic, "do you take a lot of risks?"