Ravenshook Cliffs The days are no longer my own

Not from the coast...

Niamh squinted her eyes as she gazed at the male, and then made a connection between him and Rosalyn. She too had been from the coast- and had exhibited the same sort of brazen attitude this fellow had. He shook his pelt out and looked her over, but she wasn't having it...Or maybe she was. Did she want him to look at her like that? Partially, yes- but part of her didn't want him to look at her, but she sure wanted Colt to do that. She continued to side-eye him, holding her ground as he came closer, shaking out his pelt. Yes, he definitely had that sea-side smell about him, same as Coelacanth and Caiaphas. There was something about wolves from the coast, a sort of confidence that dogged them the same as the salt that clung to their pelts. It wasn't altogether an unattractive thing. 

"No. I'm from the woods." She said, referring to the lands where she'd been born, not the plateau. There was a sense of pride in her words- as though to insinuate, perhaps, that there was something to be said for wolves who were born in the woodlands, as opposed to those who lived by the coast. She turned her gaze out along the sea line, though, and gestured with a flick of her nose. "But I do like it here." She admitted, but caught herself softening and corrected herself. 

He complimented her, and it was noticed...And appreciated. Finally- someone who could openly say something nice to her, about her. Her eyes glistened for a moment, but she steeled herself; and decided that maybe this loner ought to see more of her than simply her prettiness. So when he asked about her business, she answered him in a deadpan tone. 

"I'm checking the shoreline for the body of a wolf I was commissioned to hunt down." She said, almost casually. She flicked her tail. "Must've made a fine feast for the fish."