Kintla Flatlands Vanity will cost you

She didn't seem too terribly bothered by his sudden appearance. She merely turned, letting her eyes linger upon him for a moment before she lifted her tail in an act of dominance. Alrighty then. He kept his frame neutral and relaxed. Comfortable. He wouldn't strain to lower himself to her level, but he wasn't going to put on a show either. As far as he was concerned, they were lone wolves in neutral lands. In his eyes, that made them equally without status. He'd be whatever he needed to be to keep things that way. 

She spoke, her tail flicking behind her as the words fled her mouth. He didn't recognize them. They were strange upon his ears and amounted to nothing. Except... he recognized that accent from somewhere... Thinking back, he realized he knew of two languages in these parts outside of the common tongue. The one of the Spine, and the one of the female he'd encountered several times now. Was this wolf of the roaming caravan seeking buffalo too?

He was starting to connect the dots, but didn't let himself settle on any assumption. Instead, he lifted a brow at her strange words and realized a dialogue would get them nowhere fast. Since he had her attention, he might as well put it towards something productive. He tipped his nose in the direction she was originally heading and began to pad that way. Glancing over her shoulder, he looked back to her, and further indicated for her to follow. He lingered for a moment, waiting for her to make her decision. 

If she chose to follow, he'd pick up the pace and break out into a run. If not, he'd linger to see if she had any better ideas.