Noctisardor Bypass miles on the run

He is gentle even with his probing, and perhaps she should be grateful for it. She recalls their first meeting, marvels briefly at how his own version of the question is soft in the ways she cannot manage, and his past words come back to her. It's none of your concern — the words almost slip from her now, but her loneliness tugs at her and she swallows them, bitter as they taste. I've — lost something, She tells him.
She looks away from him, suddenly struck by how thoroughly she's failed — in every endeavor, in every responsibility self-assigned or otherwise. I've lost many things, She admits, trying to keep her voice from trembling. But it's always — difficult, isn't it? Surely he knows loss; no wolf truly lives and escapes it, she thinks. She closes her eyes and takes in a breath, suddenly aware that he is nearly a stranger and she is nothing more than the same to him.
How is your pack? She asks a moment later, expression as close to neutral as she can manage when she turns her gaze to him again.