Swiftcurrent Creek Made of protein milkshake and low carb intake

She half-expected to spend the rest of her afternoon alone on that rock, lapping dirt from its surface while wandering the endless corridors of her troubled mind. That was what would have surely happened if she was still in Grimnismal. This wasn't her former abode, though, and these weren't the same elusive, anti-social wolves she'd become familiar with. Thank god, she thought idly, because anti-social wolves seemed to think they could do whatever they wanted without any regard for authority.

Her brow furrowed as she waved those thoughts away. She didn't need that negativity. She had enough. Her ears swiveled first to the sound of an approach, but Wylla's head only came up when Ishara actually spoke. She leveled a bored but attentive look on the vaguely boyish wolf, tail stirring slowly on the stone despite herself. Her body language said she was receptive, but her tongue said, "why?" What did anyone have to gain from hanging out with the resident grumpus?

Her tongue passed over the rock between her paws one more time before Clock's arrival distracted her from watching Ishara. "Hi," she said gruffly, but her frown deepened. "Don't you have better things to do?" she had to ask (both of them), but it was self-doubt, uncertainty and the beginnings of depression that made her intent on isolating herself from her pack mates rather than an actual desire to be left alone.