The rising steam did little to conceal the approach of another, as the faint perfume rode in with the breeze. Taking a step back, Namid, took care to err on the side of caution. One could never be too sure whether the new party harbored ill intentions or not, and certain precautions had to be taken. It was already too late to run, and so the girl did the only thing she could. She listened. At first there was only the babbling of the springs, the leaves catching the wind, and then the soft melody of paw-pads touching the Earth. As they grew in intensity, she knew that this stranger would not be passing on, but still she waited.

From the way they padded against the soil so lightly, Namid was already aware that the wolf would be smaller than herself. Unfortunately, that little gem of knowledge meant very little. It seemed most wolves thought in combat only size mattered, but that was only one aspect. They never took into account the fact that bulk made one slow, and intelligence was half the battle. You had to know when to strike, where to strike, and how. Of course the tawny girl had never been in an actual fight herself, only friendly scuffles with cubs living in the packs they would stay with, but she learned by listening. A helpful tool when a situation called for it.

Then the voice came, like a ghost echoing through the mist. “Somebody out there?” A part of her didn't want to answer, after all she was never good with words. That had been her mother's job, but it had to be her's now. "Over here" Her voice trailed off into the fog, as she searched for a form. Why was there so much mist?