Neverwinter Forest and his throat burns from the screaming

It'd been some time since she'd last been expected to make conversation. The wolf echoed her name back at her, causing her ears to flicker. It sounded easier coming out of his mouth than hers - her tongue didn't want to shape it, but when he said it, it was only a word. It would get better with time, she thought. "Thanks," she said succintly when the man claimed that it suited her. She wondered if that was true and then had to scoff aloud at her own silliness. Of course it did. That was why she'd been given the name.

"Wintersbane," she repeated in a lofty immitation of the young male. "Does that suit you, I wonder?" His fur and eyes seemed to be made from winter rather than being the bane of it. It was, at least, a little less straightfoward than blackbear. She was large and black and bearlike, so it had been an obvious choice.

The woman retreated a few paces, putting her back to the trunk of an evergreen and lowering herself to the forest floor. She began grooming the pads of her paws, which were cracked and bloodly and covered in tree sap. "I'm going to come out of this forest covered in pine cones," she noted, realizing she'd probably laid in even more tree sap.