Bearclaw Valley don't have a come apart about it

There'd been a few rather blustery days as of late, and this was another of them.  The wind whipped through the valley, hitting that perfect angle to rip through the lands like a flood.  Zenith wasn't hideously pleased about it, despite her thick pelt.  It was still gonna be a while before it thinned for the summer, but she was still a kind of scrawny fluffball on stilts in the meantime.  Where her outermost pale guard hairs were blown away, ink black patches momentarily appeared before vanishing again like sunspots as she turned and where it hit her changed.

She'd heard a voice and was trotting on over to see who it was.  The words had been mangled enough by the wind that she hadn't been certain what was said other than it was (unsurprisingly) a wolf she didn't know.  Some new (and by new, she meant here before her) packmate to introduce herself to.  A brownish lady, she could see while she squinted into the wind.  Hope you weren't talking to me! she called, though she did doubt that was the case.  It'd at least be a good way to break the ice and say hi, even if the wind muffled her words too, but Zenith was now significantly closer so it'd probably be fine.  She wasn't going to stop 'til she was in conversation range.