Barrow Fields if you see me floatin' too many times

her expression changed to mock-dubiousness as alarian mentioned he was pretty -- really, you? her eyes seemed to convey, as they roved over the heavily marked disruption of flesh that pocked his muzzle. "hmm."  a vague, barely visible smirk seemed to play at the corner of her lips -- but it was the humorous flash of her eyes that betrayed her doubtfulness was counterfeit.

not that she found him pretty -- she was not a wolf of sentimental affection, and did not spare much thoughts to the aesthetics the world possessed. to her the world was simply cruel, or not -- and there was no pretty in between.

her features darkened as the male called to attention the wounds that snared her fur and exposed tissue on her neck. "the wolves on the cliff." she answered simply, gaze flitting from alarian to the tall reach of stone above them. for a moment it seemed she was lost in thought, but then she parroted back: "who did that to you?"