Swiftcurrent Creek Clairvoyence

Tuwawi. He committed the name to memory, if only because he thought this was what he was supposed to do as a pack wolf. He had never been much good at remembering names or even faces for that matter, especially given the fact that anyone hardly ever introduced themselves to him or did him any sort of good. The first seventy-five percent of his life had been spent in fights or corned by the mistrust of his black fur and leering yellow eyes. So he was used to Tuwawi's wariness, and it did not bother him that she was acting slightly defensive.

He bobbed his head slowly to her statement, keeping any vocalization to himself, until she further pressed him for information he would've rather not shared. "From the east and to the north," he said vaguely, though after two years of travel—and having not been a part of Hollow Mountain for quite some time now—it seemed fruitless to mention any particular area.

After a moment he motioned his long muzzle towards her well-placed den, after deciding to try his paw at being some sort of social. (This was what a pack was about, after all.) "Your digging make you hungry?" he asked, by way of inviting her to a hunt on such a clear day.