Iktome Plains tooth and scale

When the other drew near to investigate Meteora's scent, the she-wolf once more brought her snout close to the dark beast's shoulder. She could smell the miles woven in the guard hairs, and her nose moved along the other's side— moving so that Silaluk could do the same in turn. Freshest was a crisp scent of the alpine air, of pine trees and stone and thin atmosphere. Familiarity tickled at her mind once more— a whisper of dark wolves, moving through a mountain forest with deadly grace. She pulled away, then, circling back to face the ebony she-wolf and look upon those piercing eyes.

"I am Meteora Nereides," she spoke, her accent thick. "Well met."