Ocean's Breath Plateau i commune with nature

@Avocet

Since claiming the plateau (a subtle claim. marked just enough to alert the marauders but not enough to raise suspicion) Valentine had hardly even explored it. Instead he searched the land around it. It’s arguably more important to understand what lie just beyond their door. There was that and his will to wander. These missions granted him an excuse to explore more than he could in Ornmévan.
The plateau’s inner workings couldn’t just be ignored however. Valentine took the time to roam it today, humming to himself as he did.

Judging by the heightened pace of the wind and the scent of salt upon the air, Avocet knew she had reached the coast. To make travel easier, she had moved inland several miles, but she was relieved to return to the ocean. Though she knew she was far away from her birthplace, the familiarity of the environment was a comfort to her.

She had detected some territorial marking, but it did not seem persistent enough to establish the plateau as the property of any pack. Still, the young she-wolf did not venture too far beyond these scanty and confusing borders: it was not worth the risk of being attacked, or even of being chased off. She had come too far, and this place bore the description of the plateau her father had spoken of on his dying breath.

Avocet rested on her slender haunches and lifted her snout, howling into the wind. Perhaps whomever had marked the area knew where she could find the woman she sought: Gylfie.

His quiet tune slowly came to an end as a distant howl began. Valentine stopped in his tracks and turned an ear towards the sound. Had the marauder’s found their way here? The voice did not sound familiar to him, but then again most didn’t. There were simply too many stowaways to decipher one howl from another. They all melded into one chaotic melody.
Valentine would just have to see who was there himself. He trotted towards the direction of the sound before he crossed paths with an ivory woman. 
Ahoy there ma’am! He took a subtle whiff of her scent, and found it to be just as unfamiliar as her voice. Something I can do for you?

Avocet braced herself, knowing that in the worst case scenario, she would soon be attacked. Only a few moments passed before the approach of a man broke the dominating emptiness. She watched him carefully, red eyes darting up and down, seeking early signs of aggression. But there were none. 

Instead, he greeted her almost jubilantly, offering her his help. A smile tugged at the corner of her lip as she canted her head, half surprised and half delighted, for she had feared the worst and the worst had not come - at least, not yet. Avocet would keep her guard up always.

Perhaps, came her soft, dulcet voice in response to his offer. I'm looking for someone. Her name is "Gylfie." Any trace of mirth had disappeared from her face as she spoke the woman's name. Do you know her?

The woman seemed rather tense when he arrived. An instinctual reaction perhaps? It’s one he wasn’t unfamiliar with. There are marauders with troubled pasts that act this way, or simply more hardened wolves.
Whatever the reasoning may be, it did not matter. His casual greeting seemed to soothe her, much to his gratitude. Then she spoke of a name he knew well. How did she know? Had his fellow Seasman make an enemy of her?
Gylfie… Gylfie… He hummed thoughtfully to himself. I’ve met many wolves along my travels. There’s a chance I passed her by. Care to jog my memory? What’s she look like? Who is she to you?

He spoke the name, repeated it thoughtfully. His words suggested that he did not know her well, if he knew of her at all. A few seconds of silence followed, and Avocet stared at him with intensity before finally answering.

Pale. Slim, but... strong. The description came on her quiet, breathy voice with a strange coldness. The foggy image of a pallid she wolf came to mind; whether it stemmed from her dying father's description of the woman, or from her distant infancy, she could not know. 

She is my mother.

As vague as the description was, there was accuracy to it. Valentine’s curiosity was ever growing, even more so when the woman claimed to be her daughter. Whatever kin Gylfie had lived among the ranks of the stowaways as far as he knew. Never had she spoken of any children that wandered beyond their shore.
His head tilted to one side. And what are your intentions with her? Her hardened gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor the way spoke with subtle venom.

His next query brought into suspicion his claim that his memory of the woman was vague. It implied that he felt concern about Avocet's intentions; and why should he be concerned if he did not even know Gylfie? 

While the pale girl might have preferred him to be more upfront with her, she opted to look past it, instead looking at the question for what it was. Truthfully, it had stymied her. If Gylfie were to appear before her right now, she did not know what she would say. Avo glanced away, her ears lowering mildly as she fell into a moment of thoughtful, if confused, silence. When she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its edge. 

I suppose... I just have some questions for her. Crimson eyes studied the man again, blinking slowly. She left me when I was a very young child. My brother, too. We thought someone else was our mother, until recently.  It pained her to divulge this story to a complete stranger. But if he was someone who could link her to the answers she desired, he should know why she was asking questions.