Whitefish River tired blue boy walks my way

"How far is this place? How many days travel?" her blunt questions may have been considered rude, but her goal was not to preserve politeness and moral standards but to gain information of the place that might, one day, become her home. As for his question, she responded with a roll of her shoulders, slight, yet noticeable. "I can be useful as a scout, a ranger. I hunt as any wolf can, and I can fight. I can fight well."

Her gaze turned next to the second wolf to approach, his words impeccably polite, which, oddly, brought forth the slightest, well-hidden flicker of annoyance. those horribly polite often expected others to act in the same way to them. "Aglæca" she introduced, watching him keenly a moment. he was garbed in darker tones than she, dressed as she was in her pelt of golden tawny, laced with rust. Still, they were similar, in breed if nothing else.