Gyrfalcon's Keep the twisted nails of faith

as she drew close it relieved her to see no change in the familiar wolf's posture -- her last few interactions with the natives had permanently soured her. she was above admitting her altercations were perhaps a result of her own direct (or in some cases, indirect) demeanor. as far as the sea witch was concerned, every wolf that haunted this world was an enemy.

but then there was lasher.

she was not sure how she felt about this man --  while there was no sliver of disdain in her regard of him, she found him too complex to easily analyze. he was neither a target of her contempt nor a paragon of her worship. whether or not this confusion was drawn from her own inexperience with connecting with her kind, she could not say. they had never spent much time in silence together, yet all the same she relished the quietude that overcame them. the last time they had met along these desolate straits he had professed a great burden upon her -- one she had promptly and coarsely rejected. he was a better man than she to not resent her for it. had it been the wretch who had been spurned she would have ordered the world to turn against him. for now she was content to wonder of this man's intentions, though no words of hers dared trespass the tranquility between them.