Swiftcurrent Creek unbeknownst

Fox. But she was not a fox! Clarice's eyes flitted toward Hecarim, and back to the wolf-named-for-a-fox Fox. When the other said that they were fine despite not being looked at, Clarice looked again to confirm for herself. Nothing anyone could say would reassure the girl when her mind was set, but it was teetering, on the edge.
xxxxxxHecarim was swift to depart. Her eyes did not fall to him even as he spoke, instead they remained on Fox. They are nice, she compliments, referring to the others battle wounds. Hopefully one scars. It is not an insult, and she does not say it in a way that is cold, cruel. Scars meant experience. Scars meant that one ought to be wary. They had fought before. Clarice had no scars herself except for a notch in her ear, but she had gotten in plenty of scraps before. She was quick enough to avoid serious injury... but she was seldom a winner. Of course, she won in the end, she liked to think. She lived while they choked on prey laced with poison, or endured a curse.