the silver lopes through the glen, the brisk run keeping away the stinging cold of the swirling snow. heat settles close against her skin, familiar burn setting in as she bounds up an incline, slowing only a moment to investigate a faded set of tracks; a musky, sharp scent that can only be fox.
a moment longer, and the girl reaches the apex of the ridge, slowing to an amble as she cuts across the height of it, head low over the snow. moving, hunting, fighting; it is all better than stillness and pressing thoughts.
her muzzle swings 'round at the sound of a sharp bark, coming to rest on a sterling figure. the wind is against her, and she's unable to pick up any details. it takes a moment of squinting to assure herself this isn't a packmate, and then she swings herself toward the stranger entirely, electing to stay up on her ridge. up here, it would be easy to charge him, and she does not deny she'd rather be looking down on strangers then looking up at them.
"what?" she called back, voice sharp and yet lacking the extent of the anger that had ebbed in days past. auds press forward as she stares, gaze narrowing as she tries to better gauge the stranger's appearance from this distance.
The girl doesn't move from her spot for now, and Zephyr isn't sure whether he's relieved or disappointed. Who are you?
He decides to ask after she speaks, figuring it's probably best to avoid confrontation. If Moonspear is nearby, making a true enemy of them might not be the best idea. He doesn't really know if this girl is from there yet, but he intends to find out. If she's on her own, maybe he could convince her to come back, see if Mal likes her. If she isn't, he'll know to stay well away.
a moment passes, and then she decides to wind somewhat further down the ridge, halting halfway down a small incline. forelimbs stretch out to stabilize her, gaze fixed still on the boy. girl? it's not immediately apparent. "isilme." she answers, shifting as she feels herself begin to slide very barely, but refusing to descend any further. "who wants to know?" she probes in turn, moving to lean more fully on her left forelimb.
She doesn't give him much, and he finds himself intrigued. There's a roughness to her, something hard in her eyes that strikes him as unfamiliar and almost out of place. Most girls he's met are wide-eyed and softspoken, weepy creatures that seem as alien as another species entirely. This, however, is something he understands.
Zephyr,
He returns, tone tinged with something close to respect. He understands quickly that to get anything from her, he'll need to give too. Are you from Moonspear? I'm from Neverwinter Forest.
However the conversation goes, it ends quickly. Zephyr leaves feeling rather dissatisfied, but he quickly forgets the conversation as he departs the area. It hadn't been very noteworthy, after all.