Bearclaw Valley And you pray with your knees on the ground

The great luminous pearl on the curtain of black across the sky shone powerful yet delicate beams of silver upon the land, such a beautiful sight to behold that the ghost observing from a rise in the land did not notice the scent that drifted by on the wind. The approach of the other was met with silence, the view too mystical for Gwen to peer away from, until a voice reached her ears. With a startled puff of air releasing from her nostrils and creating a small frosted cloud, the pale woman turned to glance at the newcomer. 

The question came perhaps not as entirely rude, but... certainly not warm either. Out of habit, Gwen began to chew at the inside of her cheek, a compulsion born of anxiety. This orange-hued woman seemed at the very least cold to strangers, a wolf untrusting of newcomers to their home. Of course, the dove did not mind that, it was reasonable, but surely she should be given a chance before judgement was made?

"Ah... hello. I'm Gwen." Her tail wasn't going to be bitten off for that, right?