these hands made of splinters

The bone made its mark for the most part and it would have seemed his applicable response was to send her cascading down the pile as he freed his own quarry. She slid along with the bones, balancing as well as she could as they shifted and rolled in their different ways. The only real stumble came when the pile settled again; the gradual stop was enough to give her reason to continue the momentum and join him on the ground floor, so to speak.

At least there, she could study him properly. Scent alone was enough to place him — this had been the wolf she had smelled upon Tonravik. And while there were many secrets left to be told by Tonravik, why he had been there was as much questionable as it was curious. In truth, she knew why, but for whatever reason held off from letting the thought come into existence.

"How astute of you to notice," she replied coolly, never short of some off remark to hand out. His reddish coloration had her attention, something about it just as familiar as the musk he carried. It was not only of Tonravik he smelled of, but the wilderness beyond. He had gone away with her as well. "Your trip, how was it?" She had picked up what Tonravik had divulged with her, but she was curious of his take as well. After all, he had been chosen hadn't he?