Qeya River A little thirsty

He seemed to understand the error in his approach but rather than attempting to meet with her properly, he made to sit, though he did introduce himself. She would soon learn that this was common, acceptable behavior to the denizens of this area, but for her, it was a bit odd. It could be likened to walking tail-first; it was backwards to the customs with which she was familiar.  

Uncertain of his way, she made no move to approach herself, holding her ground as she continued her quiet appraisal of him. She did not respond until after several moments of what was, for her, appropriate silence between two strangers. "Rionach," she answered him, though she still felt that this introduction was misplaced and only gave her name as an effort to engage with the male.

She thought to correct him, to tell him that she was not afraid, but she felt this was apparent in the language of her body. Fear was healthy, and nothing she would be ashamed to admit to feeling from time to time. But her caution and distance was one of the respect one predator had for another. To not respect the potential wits and fangs of another wolf was to be foolish indeed.

Since he made no move to greet her, she took the reigns and moved forward a few steps, sweeping her tail side to side gently and keeping her gaze away from his eyes and upon his entirety instead.