Whitefish River Are we the last living souls?

The Plateau is beautiful, even under the cloak of winter, but Alessia has predictably found herself struggling to integrate. The number of scents in the territory has dwindled since she joined, yet she still tenses when she crosses a familiar trail a ways outside the borders. She's been alone too long, perhaps. She knows she'll have to break her isolation at some point, though. Ironically, this is what is occupying her thoughts when Kavik finds her. She glances up at his chuff, stiffening slightly as he sits beside her.
Hello, She murmurs after a moment, gaze sweeping over him briefly. He really does look the alpha type — massive, muscular, stoic. She dislikes him already; not that she allows it to show. The Plateau is quiet. There is no judgment in her tone — she is only observing, though she is undeniably curious as to how he will respond.