Sun Mote Copse wandering through broken shadows

WC: 346

--------------------------------------------------

Niamh should have considered herself lucky to have come across someone while in the state that she was in who was as considerate and understanding as Natjuk was. He didn’t comment on the disappearance of her brother, or offer condolences when there really wasn’t anything that an apology would do for her at that point. He’d simply taken her mistake in stride and had allowed her to babble at him, giving him information he hadn’t even asked for. For his patience, she was truly appreciative, but she had no way to properly show it. He’d denied her apology, as though she hadn’t caused any harm, though any other wolf might have been upset or distressed that she’d come barreling toward them.

Rather than trying to coddle her and offer her unrealistic wishes of hope, he gave her something that was actually useful to her- a name. He was a lone wolf, she guessed, and she assumed as well that he was the sort who was the silent type...Basically the opposite of what Niamh was. She would sometimes talk without any tact, just because she grappled horribly with finding the right words to say and often substituted more words for succinct ones, like a child trying to fill out the 1000 word quota for an essay.

”Niamh Blackthorn,” She said, not even considering for a moment that he might use her name if he should find Ambrose in his travels. ”My pack is called the Redhawks...We live on the plateau just there; you can sort of see it from here,” She said, gesturing to the highest part of the plateau that was only just visible in the distance. She, of course, was all too familiar with that edge of her home land- she had slipped in the spring rains, earlier on in the year and had sprained her ankle tumbling down that slick slope. ”Do you have a home?” She asked, not simply enquiring if he was a lone wolf- but if he had somewhere that he was going.

--------------------------------------------------