Totoka River I hate the winter

Emory, too, held no liking towards small talk, but by now she had grown so used to it when conning her way into whatever she pleased. People loved to talk, especially of themselves, so it was expected to come along with everyone she spoke to. She couldn't quite place what it was that made the stranger before her so different, though something kept him from looking completely of a wolf. Perhaps a dog? She'd met a few of those hybrids before, though they were usually excessivley excited and strangely upbeat, while he seemed much more stoic and refined. Which she apprieciated, since other half-breeds would likely be all over her. The sunset now laid behind her, only the reflection in newcomer's orbs shown the fiery scene. He hadn't shown any sense of lust nor awkwardness once seeing the vixen which was...different. The wolfess enjoyed different, and treasured whatever she could of it. Too often did the same play repeat, it now became routine, a flaw in her choice of path.

She nodded in response, her eyes not faltering from him. "Indeed," because the new wolf had treated her so abnormally than most, instead of using what she could of her body to gain a place to sleep, she decided to also be different in the situation. "Where is it you're heading?" The femine posture of Emory didn't alter, though the facade of lust filled her eyes fell somewhat, she didn't have the urge to attempt to seduce him any longer, and believed the possibility of benefit with another tactict.