Blackfeather Woods Turn Off the Lights

The heat-drenched woman introduced herself as Cyn. The silent waif nodded, committing the name to memory. Quiet nodded again as her way of accepting the apology, then straightened her form, her body showing her relaxed manner now that their situation had been resolved. She doubted that her anger was brought on by anything other than hormones. There was no need for grudges or anything of the sort. Quiet sat there, blinking at the woman curiously. She had so many questions that she wished she could ask. Instead, Quiet lifted a paw and pointed to her throat, opening her mouth and then shaking her head. Hopefully, this pack consisted of wolves who were adept at reading body language. She thought they would be, living in such perpetual darkness.