Bitterroot Valley i keep tellin' myself, i keep tellin' myself i'm not the desperate type

A chuff startles him, and he spots a tiny figure not far off. He doesn't hesitate to approach, noting as he draws closer that the stranger is female, wrapped in sandy tones— her eyes give him pause. He's always been a sucker for pretty eyes, and while he's not really into women, he can't help but admire for a moment. She's pretty overall, and at first glance reminds him of Thelxiope; the fur color, the serene sort of aura.
He notices the scent of pups on her, but an absence of pack-scent; it's odd, but he knows it's not unheard of. Hi, He offers, realizing at that moment he has nothing else to say that isn't intrusive or dull. Well— intrusive it is. Are you traveling?