Duskfire Glacier ice feeds through our veins

The woman—Mirabelle—tries to mimic the word she’d spoken and Shivali offers a smile. She repeats the greeting once more, correcting the slight difference in pronunciation. She hadn’t considered the wolves speaking their language, learning and practicing with those familiar with the tongue. Drowned in a world that does not understand, it had simply been the default, and she feels herself much more eager to involve herself.
 
“I am Shivali,” the mother says with a smile and wave of her tail. She is not the monster the journey painted her to be and she frowns at the thought. Other wolves turn from her when she nears and she is thankful for the ones that don’t, now that she feels up to doing anything other than running.