Stavanger Bay I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way.

The stranger responded in a succinct, but friendly manner. Muses further felt at ease, relieved that it seemed to be impossible to encounter an enemy around these parts. Surely more aggressive wolves would be an anomaly, she thought, but did not voice such a thing out loud. It would be foolish, and seem paranoid of her, if she suddenly started to babble about wars an enemies. Despite what she had been through, her story was unknown and irrelevant to others. She needed not burden them with her own sorrows.

The yet nameless wolf, after politely greeting her, revealed that she was merely having a stroll, a simple action that did not put Muses on edge. "If you've been studying my scent, then I hope you have found everything you need to know! To have such a sensitive nose is a blessing, truly. I had a sister who could track any creature! I hope one day to master a fraction of her skill." She spoke with tenderness and adoration, unable to stop herself. While the she-wolf did not need to know irrelevant trivia of her past life, she could not allow the memory of her kin to go without praise. As long as she lived, she would never forget them, never cherish the time they had spent together.

"It's a lovely area." The young wolf hummed, as if to agree with something that had been implied (that she surely made up for the purpose of continuing a conversation with herself). "I've never seen lands like these, with a lake so large, and air so heavy!" In her youth she was excitable, and her ignorance was utter bliss. "May I ask which pack you're from, miss?" She queried, canting her head slightly to the left. With baited breath she waited, hoping to find an agreeable companion in the mousy furred wolf.