Bramblepoint point to the hills

She wondered at his jumpiness upon her arrival. Nashoba thought she had sounded too loud approaching, her paws clumsily breaking twigs and crackling down on leaves as she tried to avoid the brambles that ripped at her fur. Still, she felt apologetic, though cracking a wry half-smile at his drawling accent and the words that went with it.

"Sorry for startling you," she said. "Anyway, you're right about the rain." Several fat droplets had escaped the canopy above and were landing on her head, rolling down her muzzle and dripping into her mouth as she opened it to speak again. "I guess there's something to be said about positivity."

She glanced over to him, then, looking him over curiously. He was thin--obviously had missed many meals here--but his golden coat still shone even in the dim light. "Are you with a pack, or alone here?" Nashoba didn't particularly scent any other wolves on him, but you could never be sure with this sort of thing.