Twisted Slough a wind age

Despite the unhospitable damp of the woods, Solveig was not alone.

The soft squish of earth beneath paws drew the attention of the hulking she-wolf, and she slowly swung her head around to regard the stranger with a unassuming stare. If the other had meant ill, she would have acted upon her intentions by now, therefore there was little to fear. A smaller wolf; far more dimunutive than herself, but with the same compact, dense musculature that bespoke of a warrior's path. The expression she bore was uncertain, likely embarassed, but Solveig was no diviner. She could never assume.

A small smile snaked across her lips and she nodded to the younger wolf. "Heil." She offered with a sweep of her bushy tail. "Do you belong here, or passing through as I am?"