The first light of dawn stretched across the landscape, illuminating the dew-kissed grass and painting the world in soft pastels. The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scents of pine and damp soil, mixing with the gentle aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom in the fleeting warmth of spring. Gwyn stood on the edge of a small clearing, her amber eyes scanning the horizon as the sun broke free from the grasp of the night.

She had wandered far from the remnants of her old pack, each step taken with cautious optimism. The forest felt both welcoming and strange, its whispering leaves and rustling underbrush offering both solace and uncertainty. Though her heart longed for the comfort of familiar faces, Gwyn was driven by a desire to explore, to connect with the world around her and perhaps, in time, find a new family among the trees. As she padded softly through the undergrowth, the gentle chirping of birds echoed overhead, and she paused, tilting her head to listen, a small smile creeping onto her muzzle. Nature had its way of healing, and even in her solitude, she found beauty in the symphony of life around her.

But then, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught her attention—a slight crack in the underbrush, a sound too sharp for the gentle morning. Gwyn's heart quickened, instincts sharpening as she turned her head, curiosity piqued. What lay beyond the safety of her solitude? Would it be a friend or foe? With her gentle heart racing, she moved quietly, the hope of connection guiding her toward the source of the sound.

The male was the first to notice her, his voice a low drawl. She could sense the unspoken invitation, and though a small part of her cautioned against intruding, her heart often outweighed her reservations. Gwyn moved with unassuming grace, careful not to encroach too closely. Her presence was gentle, as if to assure them she posed no threat. She wouldn't be much of one anyways, she supposed.

Amber eyes flitted between the two wolves. She dipped her head gracefully, a warm, almost shy smile playing on her lips. "Good morning," she replied, as warm and gentle as the first light of dawn.  "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just… well, the forest has a way of pulling one along." 

Her gaze lingered on the darker, taking note of the wolf’s discomfort as she tended to her paw. "That looks a bit stubborn, doesn't it?" Gwyn remarked kindly, her own posture relaxed, hoping to put them at ease. "if you’d like, I know a trick or two for thorns. Sometimes, just a little tilt of the paw helps coax it out." she offered, inclining her head toward the woman’s paw. Her movements were slow, deliberate, an invitation for trust rather than an assumption of it. "May I?"

Gwyn observed the small exchange with a warm gaze, noting the quiet ease between the two, even as the she-wolf tended to her paw. A lighthearted warmth flickered in her own eyes, and she dipped her head in silent respect for the care he offered his friend. She glanced at her, noting the small dot of red on her paw.

"If it begins to bother you," she added, her voice soft, "a poultice of sage can ease the sting. It grows in small patches not far from here."

As he addressed her again, Gwyn’s gentle smile softened. "Not often, no," she replied, her voice as soft as the early morning mist. "S' pretty, though." Perhaps she would stay for the week, make a home in the abandoned burrow she'd passed on the way here.

At his question, she met his gaze, her amber eyes flickering with quiet warmth. "Gwyn is fine," She inclined her head with a soft, respectful nod toward them both, a peaceful steadiness about her. "And yours?"

Gwyn’s gaze softened, taking in the names with a warm sense of familiarity as they offered them up. “Arkarkla. Cole.” She repeated the names with a smile as if tasting the weight of them.

She inclined her head, an appreciative glint in her amber eyes. “I’ve learned here and there,” she explained, her tone gentle but sure. “My birthpack held a deep respect for the plants—my mother taught me the most.” A light chuckle escaped her. “But the rest... well, traveling teaches you plenty.”

“If you’d like, I can share what I know with you. One day, you may find yourself in need of more than sage.” She winked softly, warmth radiating from her every gesture, offering to share the quiet, healing knowledge she’d gathered through her journey.