Great Bear Wilderness Out of the frying pan

The visit to the hot springs had lifted her spirits somewhat; even if she had to commune with a foreigner, Osprey had been pleasant company. Far better than the various men that had intercepted her. And now, with her route following a southern curve, the young woman was in a far more positive frame of mind. The river itself was of little consequence to her. It smelled more like water and less like wolf, and held no other indication of canine activity. If she was going to find Hadrian, it seemed that her path would have to head even further in to this wilderness.

Basilie was minding her own business when she came upon another stranger. At first sight of him, she halted with an abrupt lurch of her step; then as the moments passed, she sized him up from a distance. Was this one of the menfolk from one of her prior encounters? Hmm... No, she didn't think so. This stranger was pale (a decidedly odd coincidence) but younger, leaner, and... Was he walking with a limp?

His injury placed him on the no threat list. Her pace, therefore, was restarted: an imperious stride, as if she had places to be, and no time to dawdle. She purposefully put herself in the stranger's path though - and as she swiftly passed him by, she was struck by a half-heard word.

Basilie stopped and turned her head, her interest apparent by the sudden turn of her ears and solidity of her gaze. Excuse me? Surely he hadn't been speaking to her.