not yet old enough to be a hunting woman, but not quite small enough to be coddled at her mother's bosom. during her time in the plains, maggak took to chasing small prey; feeling vibrations beneath the snow and pouncing on voles as if she were a vixen. a girl with boundless, determined spunk she was!
her wandering took her further from the crowds. it pleased the starlet to get away from the noise and the warm bodies, the strange smells and the even stranger faces. maggak owed only her own people the time of day; a trait passed down through generations, given to her by men who were only ghosts now.
and so it caught her by surprise when she caught the scarred face of a man who looked so much like her, and yet not at all. she is confused until the distinct stench of seasalt snakes through her senses. she knew him, even though she didn't.
you're from moontide, she says matter-of-factly, approaching with a sway to her billowing tail and a heavy footstep. aren't you?