Neverwinter Forest painted the hunger onto my skin

She shakes her head at his inquiry, smiling in response. "No, no, I'm fine. It's not bleeding anymore, and it should be just a scar in a few days." Her nostrils flared, picking up the scent of the kill. The animalistic side of her pushed her to dive right in, cover her muzzle in flesh and guts; the diplomatic side of her needed to know more about this wolf.

"Sooo. . .Drogon. A Soturi," Miyako tested out the unfamiliar word, drawing out each syllable. She cast an unblinking gaze upon him, taking in his appearance once again. Past the hunt, she now saw he was young: his brute strength masked the pup flesh still lingering in places. His eyes, however, were not young--they had seen hardship in the few months they had been open. He must have had to age quickly. A warrior, he had named himself.

"Do you have family nearby? Or are you alone?"

Miyako knew the subject of family was raw to so many. She herself had lost hers, and winced when others had brought up theirs. She figured this one, without a hunting party in tow, was flying solo, but she needed to make sure she wasn't taking vital resources from young siblings or elderly family members of Drogon's before she helped herself to the kill.