Felltree Marsh painting greys

Ynes was entranced by the male's presence. It was the way in which his words fell from his mouth, or perhaps the fashion in which he carried himself; regardless, it caught her attention. With a short rumble of approval, she moved and crossed one paw over another for a more composed look. I suppose you are right, she cooed, None of us are ever truly alone. This repetition of the brute's idea was moreso for her own ears rather than his, as she sought to convince herself of this apparent truth. 

Then came the confession of his infancy in exploring this new land, to which she gave a nod of agreeance. I can't say I'm an old trooper either. In fact, Ynes had come quite a long way in an effort to seek out this land. She had travelled westward from her old province and landed coincidentally in the Wilds where wolves spoke the common tongue and worshipped none. Although her ears were more tuned toward the melodic words of her French or the sounds of her Greek, Ynes spoke with native-like fluency. Have you travelled far, stranger?