Whitefish River radioactive

He seemed friendly enough in his words and expressions, a smile splitting across his dark muzzle—that was a good sign, if not an inviting one. For the moment, thoughts of the fey and otherworld escaped her... it was nice to have a normal conversation, and perhaps abandoning her obsession wouldn't be such a terrible thing. Spine's mind and spirit could then rest, and perhaps be more receptive to the world that seemed just beyond her grasp. "Well, I don't know about that," she told him, laughing slightly. "I think I'd have to know you better, Styx."

If she had notice that he had grown more... aloof? tense? ...at her introduction, Spine might have ended the conversation and moved on to find some friendlier company. It seemed that the dark hybrid was an excellent pretender, however, and so she remained to glean what information about the area she could. Styx smelled of himself, alone, and so she did not bother to ask if he hailed from a pack nearby. She could, however, ask, "Do you know if there are any packs around here?"