Kintla Flatlands we can't compete with the squirrels

She sees him long before he reaches and speaks to her. The flat plain has an advantage of spotting others at a distance, something foliage and rocky terrain does not offer, but she does not feel the immediate threat to run. A single call will likely draw at least one of the four wolves she’s tagging along with and at their distance, she’s certain she can get away—at least up until he’s within range of talking to each other. Her ears fold back slowly and she glances back the way she came, wondering if her giant of a new friend has her back again this time or not. When she does not see him within a few seconds, she swivels her gaze back and shifts awkwardly on her feet.

Pale green eyes look past him for a moment in the direction he came though she does not realize how close she’d gotten to his claim. They’d met last in the forest several days ago and he’d only pointed in a general direction. They must not have traveled as far as she’d expected but the others aren’t on a rushed mission to get back home. They have a job that is, so far, incomplete. The question he asks is met with silence, as it has with most wolves. It does not spark an interest in speaking, even if the other asks a direct question. She vaguely wonders what mama and papa would say by her blatant ignoring another wolf but she nervously licks her chops and gives him a few swishes of her tail. She’s friendly, at least.