Phoenix Maplewood Grace, beauty, and other girly synonyms.

Grace followed the arctic females lead, sitting down on her right haunch to let her left hind leg sprawl comfortably. 
            "I think I'm a pretty good hunter, even considering a bit of a bum leg. I met a lone elder who taught me how to hunt despite it, told me to go and join a pack. She pointed me in this direction, but she didn't have a distinctive scent on her like she was of a pack."
She glanced down at the limb, severely scarred and slightly morphed up of where it should be on a "normal" wolf.
                 "But my main trade would be healer. I prefer to mend rather than hurt, even if I am good at hunting." 
It felt... Well, good, to open up for once. She figured, being in a pack, she would learn to be able to do such a thing with at least someone; perhaps if this wolf was like her, or at least could respect her, maybe they would make a bond."