Blackfoot Forest Line of Fire

Long reeds of sweet Rush tickled Tuwawi's nose as she curiously snuffled about the mysterious plants. The soft sent of field mice and voles littered its base, and though she thought to consider the plant's medicinal properties, the little mammals were of greater interest. Botany had never been one of Tuwawi's strong suites, though she regretted it now. Even though Njal had healed (for the most part) his wife had been able to do little for his wounds. Pure luck played a good part in his recovery, and perhaps if Tuwawi had been able to provide him with herbs or salves the northerner might not have slid into such a critical state.

The sound of a soft woof reached the Swiftcurrent wolf before its scent did, and it caused Tuwawi's ears to prick and tail to rise. At first, her thoughts were only of the Vale, and so her body assumed a shameless defensive and claimant posture. Her red banner waved stiffly in the air as she approached the darker female with a few lofty strides. Keen, stormy eyes traced her, fixated; a clear sign that this was Tuwawi's hunting grounds and no other's. However, the ember's figure relaxed and assumed a more neutral stance when the other woman's scent made its way through the early mist and revealed itself to be of the Plateau. What was a Blacktail wolf doing so far from home? Scouting for better hunting territory?

Tuwawi's tongue slid across the leather of her nose as she scrutinized the maiden's face. "You are far from the Plateau" she muttered gruffly, suspicious of the other's intent.