It was difficult for her to decipher the non-vocal cues, she never realized just how much she relied on words to carry her own conversation. The obvious gestures were easy to follow, but when the wolf seemed to be making a complex statement Kipling was left squinting at her not quite catching the name though she was sure it was some type of introduction. Rather than admit her lack of understanding she nodded as if she'd caught that, replying with a simple, Kipling.
If the wolf didn't talk much (maybe perhaps she couldn't at all?) that'd be fine enough with her, it meant there was probably less of a chance for Kipling to be caught in her faults. Though she did succumb to a flush of embarrassment at the simple laugh, feeling personally stabbed that her suggestion wasn't quite what the wolf was game for. Controlling herself from snapping and asking what was the better option, she went stiff lipped at receiving her silent answer: the pronghorn.
It was the better option, especially between two wolves. But it seemed far from her own league--there were so many other things to consider when taking on a herd! She'd always relied on others to do the planning for her when it came to such things, but now and it was just the two of them, and loathing the idea she'd be found out as novice there had to be mutual decisions between them.
Hesitantly following the coywolf's lead and dropping into the grass, she followed suit not entirely sure where her position should be in this.