Northstar Vale And pluck till time and times are done

Saena's ears smoothed back slightly on her head to listen to Rhys as she led him into the vale, but her shoulders remained rigid and proud as she walked. There was no mistaking her place here, just as there was no mistaking the presence of others by the scents spread throughout. They were four in number now, and growing. Soon they would be an immovable force. Saena had been sent packing from two homes in her life, once by teeth and once by fire, and had voluntarily left the others. This time, she would never leave.

"Hmm," she mused when Rhys claimed his unique accent was natal. She wondered what would make a wolf's tongue pause on a letter like that, but she could guess that Rhys didn't know any more than she did, so she didn't ask. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder and queried, "what brings you to my vale today, Rhys Septhis?" Was it need of company? Mere wanderlust? Or had he merely not expected there to be a pack in the area? All were valid reasons, but Saena wanted to know his reasons, the better to judge his behaviour by.

After all, she was unsatisfied with what she'd received thus far, and couldn't hide the slightest prickle of her hackles in offense, though nothing about her currently suggested she was any sort of threat to his bodily self.