Honeyed Pasture That's it Sir, you're leaving

Her thoughts had drifted away again - if she strained had enough she could almost hear distinct voices, almost garner visions and details of them. She did not know their ways like she knew Lasher's, and so it was a futile attempt at getting the information she so desperately needed. A sound drew her from her focus - or lack of - and the pale woman turned to face the male who had presumably made the sound. 

She dipped her head in greeting, taking only a couple more steps closer to him. Her silver eyes could  see him more clearly, skinny, clearly overworked by the famine that had hurt them all. Finally mustering up the strength, or perhaps the will, she lifted her head and spoke. "Hello," She didn't know him, and the few tendril of information on his scent didn't give her much to go off. With a dull horror she realized how much time she had spent in her pack lands and how little she knew of anything else around her.

It was foolish, now, and her children would suffer for it.