The Sentinels she learned how to smile with blood in her mouth

Wynonna knew herself to be a patient woman. She could hear the roar of the ocean in the distance, even if she couldn’t see it, and it is enough to keep her calm at the borders. She considers, on better circumstances, she might have a gift between her paws while she waits but the emptiness of her surroundings did not give her much to produce. The barren look of the forest before her is enough to know that now would be the time to have a kill to offer. Instead, she worries her chances are slim and she considers back pedaling and moving on, either until she found something else to get her by.

When a dark figure steps up, slim and weary, Wynonna drops even more than she’s already standing. He offers a single word of greeting, welcome, and she lets her tail sweep a few times behind her and turns her head in exposure to show she means no harm.

“Thank you,” she murmurs before she’s distracted by another figure, just as dark, but older, and her gaze rests in his direction for a moment longer before she looks at the younger. “My name is Wynonna and I was hoping to talk to someone about shacking up with the pack here. I’ve got a couple’a good skills, I think. I’m a p’good fisher, know a bit about some herbs—nothing too fancy, though,” she says with an eager, yet distant, smile.