Kintla Flatlands Plates and Saucers

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Pallas had been overturning rocks for newts (with no luck) when a bark rung in the area. Her triangular ears shoved forward and she whipped her head around, scanning the vicinity with a displeased squint to her features. She hadn't expected company, and truth be told, had let her guard down a little. She had been too absorbed in finding food to really notice that she was practically on top of another wolf. Perhaps this was the reason she was just as thin as Shrike, though the condition was not a look that she wore well.

With a grumble she placed her paw back on the ground and the rock fell, crushing the insects beneath it with a loud swarming splat. It was unlike her to want to seek company, but she did not want to be caught offguard by this wolf again. With that she turned around and nearly spooked in surprise, for there was a male not too far from her, his heads peeking over the reeds like a submarine's swiveling periscope. Her hackles riffled independent of the wind, and she studied the male before her without words to excuse the brashness of her examination.