Neverwinter Forest they're good dogs, brent

When her stomach has taken all it can, with one warning grumble, Mallaidh lifts her head and licks her lips free of water. At first she does not move, looking down at the water as it flows slowly in one direction. She begins to weigh the pros and cons of following the band of wolves, what little she knows, while she has a few minutes to herself. It would be easy to tag along and let them hunt for her, keep her safe, whereas the last month or so alone has been one danger after the other, losing more and more energy and strength each day. If Eske had not come along, she’d have likely died within the next several days.
 
Mallaidh jumps when she hears the chuff, shuffling quickly to her feet to spin around. She expects to see one of the wolves from the group, following her to the river so she flattens her ears and lowers her head. Instead, she sees the unfamiliar shape of a stranger and she stiffens. Her thin form does not move from the bank of the stream, watching as he gets closer. She is not so far she cannot call for help should she need it—something she quickly adds to the pro list—but she waits to do anything else until the intention of the male is clearer.