Heron Lake Plateau Lots of booze, and lots of ramblin'

She got a resolute nod from the young girl, so she straightened up her shoulders, tilted her head to one side, allowing her neck to crack audibly. "Good. Thought I could count on you." She meant to boulster the girl's confidence- and possibly win a few brownie points, of course- but if the girl's mother was Caiaphas, she would expect nothing less from her than determination and gumption. While she did peg the youngster as being a bit on the sullen, judgemental side of things, it at least meant that she was a realist and a skeptic, and having lost most of her family would have stripped her of at least some of her childhood naivety. What she needed now, Niamh thought, was someone to put faith in her and simply accept her as she was. 

Knowing she could easily say something that might make her seem uncool, or rattle whatever opinion Raleska had of her that was likely dangling precariously, she stayed silent, moving along and focusing on sniffing for tracks. She huffed a soft breath at each set of tracks they passed belonging to a packmate, as though checking one after another off a list. Non-verbally, at least it would communicate that those tracks they crossed- which happened to belong to Quixote, Ceara and Colt- were a non-issue. 

It was when she came across the scent of a fox that she paused, and allowed herself to bristle slightly. A fox wasn't a terrible threat- the pups were all big enough now that a fox would be out of its mind to bother with them, but it could raid their caches or catch prey that was rightfully theirs. She gestured for Raleska to come over and investigate for herself, giving the girl time to see what she made of the musky scent.