Falls of the Hinterlands But something rustled on the floor

Her ears sloped forward in a futile effort to hear the whisper-quiet words Sjáseiðr spoke, but Saena could only watch her lips move. As imperceptive and dense as Saena could be, she'd not developed the ability to accurately read lips, so whatever was said went unheard. As the shadow-wrought female stepped forward, her voice became stronger, and the pale wolf let her ears fall to the sides once more.

"I've been there," she reluctantly admitted. She remembered the famine. Not clearly, and with many inaccuracies, but she recalled that infernal hunger. Her belly pinched at the thought. "I'm a hunter," she announced loudly, "maybe I can help you, if you can help me in return." A minute tilt of her head punctuated the offer. She hadn't missed the corded sinew of Sjáseiðr's figure. The woman was surely strong, strong enough to traverse mountains, and if she'd been in the area long enough then she might have information about getting through it quickly that Saena could use.