Orlaith had caught quite a few scents within this general direction. While not being Kaistleoki's territory, she still decided to check out who was inhabiting. There was the memory of Wraen and apparent companions nearby, and momentarily wondered if it could've been them. At the same time, a few of those scents were not similar to her so.

She approached the forest, holding her head high and forested eyes gently grazed the surroundments. She held no hostility, simple curiosity of who may be within the area.

Scavenging.
She felt as a coyote, low and dirty, without pride or nobility. That didn't last long, picking at the last dregs of a kill made by some other beasts weeks ago. The old meat was meagre and tendinous. There was nothing that tasted good about any of it. While Valmúa took no pride in such work, she would need it to satisfy the next leg of her journey toward her brothers. She was hot on their trail; she knew they were close. She felt it.
On her way around the mountain, she carried with her a rib of the deer carcass. She could smell marrow inside, and decided she would try to open it in the evening when resting.
In the woods, Valmúa happened upon a woman. She was well-fed. The northerner dropped the bone and her hackles raised some. She was hardly in shape to fight off some stranger, but she was well-ready to do so. She stood stiff, her tail fluffed and high and her ears alert. She said nothing.

Orlaith wasn't too aggressive to those outside of her territory, before and after the memories. It was neutral ground, and unless it was an enemy, she wouldn't easily fly into a fight. Though cougars, like that one she met long ago, were an exception. There was no trusting the wild fauna, for there was nothing to stop such a large beast on attacking them so.

Her ear went high in alert, as she rose a brow to a rather dirty figure in the distance. They seemed wary, and hostile, but didn't motion to attack like others. The area did not smell marked, simply occupied by a few wolves currently on the travel, and surprisingly, smelled like a lot.

"Kinda rude to scowl at a stranger, yeah?"

From a distance the woman called out to her. Valmúa lifted a lip in annoyance, but her tail dropped slowly. The other was cool and calm, though at attention. The ginger northerner exhaled sharply through her nose, huffing, followed by a lick of her grey lips. Where is this? What is it called? The questions where abrupt and without apology.
The forest was new to her, but so was the whole of the park. She had come from afar chasing the hringja, which called like a voice to her every day. The whispers from the trees were foreign, just as the wolf who spoke the common tongue was.
The red woman kept herself stiff, though she motioned to the forest trees and even the sky above, asking the name of this new and natural place. It was a place without her kin, save for two she knew must be somewhere.

"I aint telling you shit till you apologize." There was a rather sly grin upon the commanders face as she looked at the wolf in question. Normally, since it wasn't her territory, Orlaith wouldn't care less and smile and laugh at the other, but.. This red bastard still had an annoyed look on her face despite asking questions.

Rude, she thought.

Ekki fokking líklegt.
As though Valmúa would apologize to a stranger for no wrong. It wasn't as though she had stolen a kill or openly insulted. The fur along the base of her tail raised with her fluffy neck. She did not appreciate the demand, but her stare did not falter save for a subtle twinge of a lip.
No. The answer was plain. In it she carried no threat. The fire woman was not about to let some óverðugur woman of this new place make random demands of her. And so, Valmúa asked again. What is the name of it? Her guard remained up.
She would not win a fight.

"Then you won't know." Orlaith held confidence enough now if a fight were to break out, she may have a better chance at winning. Not to mention, there was no point in a fight overall in the neutral land; and especially so for giving information she didn't have to, especially if one was so rude to herself. She was petty enough, to not do any favors until the apology, and only then, would she finally get along.

"Bye then," and since the other was so caught up in but a guard, the commander thought there would be no point, nor fun to interact with this loner. All but wasted breath!

When the stranger refused to tell her, Valmúa growled low and harsh. Normally, it might have been a warning that she was about to attack this woman without much reason. Had one of her brothers been with her, she very likely would have done so if for no other reason than the fun of it.
But the other was a pack wolf. She was well-fed and strong. The russet-coated woman, in contrast, was quite thin from her journey. She was out of shape and out of practice. Though she loved a good pointless fight, such a thing would almost certainly end in injury. So, while the other bid goodbye, Valmúa rolled her eyes. Then I will call it the Bitch Forest, she spat, and backed up. She did not feel good about turning her back on the other to leave. She walked backwards for several paces before running off.
She was annoyed that she couldn't come up with something more witty than Bitch Forest, but it was still more satisfying to have the last word.

Orlaith's laughter filled the forest as she stepped away. She care not about the last word at the moment, for she knew, she won. There was no information the other gave to her, and so with the limited knowledge, she refrained from sharing any. Now the dubbed 'bitch forest,' was little matter to the commander, for it wasn't even her land! It was but a visitors temporary home.

And so she laughed, with such thoughts of the red loser.