Honeyed Pasture Exposure

While the scent of larger predators might prevent a wolf from venturing too deeply into the pasture, it was something undoubtedly that drew Nyx in. She did not pause to consider the danger she'd potentially brought upon herself: the depression, surely, that continued to consume her for the longer she refused to acknowledge it with words. A desire to test her budding belief that her life was not worth living.

There, she tried to correct herself that she sought nothing but solitude, though the sight of a rather anxious stranger distracted the golden agouti from her grim thoughts. Yellow eyes lingering curiously on the pale-furred wolfess, Nyx pressed on with an uncertain lash of her tail until she drew close enough to greet her with a soft wuff.

A dusting of warmth peppered the other female's dorsal and crown, and she held the leggy appearance of a yearling. She paused a short distance away, quiet as to present the choice of communication or going on her way.