Bramblepoint point to the hills

At the sound of the rumbling thunder, Nashoba flicked an ear and padded slowly into the forest of brambles. She had grown up on the plains--storms didn't bother her in the least--but she wished to remain dry, and so, in she went. Her muzzle wrinkled back in distaste, teeth slightly bared, as the thorny bushes raked gently against her sides, but she soon grew used to the prickling pressure and carried on, keeping her head down to avoid bashing it on low-hanging branches.

Nashoba caught sight of a golden figure ahead, watching the storm roll through. She walked nimbly towards the stranger, pulling up beside him and sitting on her haunches beside him. Idle conversation wasn't really her thing, but she thought it probably would have been awkward if she just sat in silence beside a wolf she knew not.

"This place is hell on earth," she mused crudely, ears flattening a bit as a loud clap of thunder roared overhead. "No food, these brambles have raked me bloody, and I'm pretty sure the lightning is God's way of telling us we're all doomed." She gave the loner, a tall, poised male, a sideways glance. "It's a wonder anyone stays here."