Overture Downs Survival is my middle name

@Mara Susi Shadow posted you! Whoops!

She was grateful that she would not spend the winter alone. While she had been largely isolated most of her life, she was never truly alone. The tribe was still there, still close, even though they had pushed her away. She still had wolves to talk to, people to make her day interesting. But ever since her tribe had been scattered to the winds, there was no one, no one but the spirits to make her company. And they were not good friends.

The light pink aura that eminated around the pale wolf she named Camlo — gentle, dear — was muted, much like he was. She did not know the extent to which he was silent, having not seen the missing tongue yet, but she filled the silence with her own accented speech, not caring what he thought. Veenters 'ave ne'er been zis cold. Somezhink had been happenink to make zis much cold. She hobbled over the river that Camlo so swiftly crossed, still babbling all the while. Makes one vonder if dis is being a curse, čo? Some one must 'ave wronged zhe spirits very much to be havink such bad effects.

That was purely speculation. She knew of land-wide curses — droughts, storms and the like, — but never one this large, this major. She pondered if it was simply a quirk of the land, for Nature was fickle like that. A part of her knew that she would never know the truth, and instead focus on the present, as to where they were going, for instance. Oi! Camlo! Vhere are you takink us, hlupák? The cave was plenty fine. They could have weathered out the winter there and lived much longer than they would travelling about. The old Chovahani snorted at the sight of a sheepishly smiling girl, scowling at the scent of pack in the air. Vhat you vant, rakli​?