Emberflame Ridge “Don’t nobody love country music- but them lyrics will hit home.”

the wind pushed through her fur once more, and true discomfort began now that she stood out in the open. her pelt was hardly good protection, spiked against the chill and already stiffened with snow and ice. the storm sought to carve its way through the mountains and the wolves who stood here were pale targets amongst the unyeilding rock. the male spoke now of a group; it was not her intention to shelter with others but she did not refute his words. it would be stupid to back away now, when there were faces to learn and knowledge to gain, however insignificant. 

she dipped her head, the movement slightly exageratted as she sought to be seen amongst the driving winds. she'd follow him whereever he mat lead, pliable in her motives and actions, yet. it would be more enjoyable than weathering out this storm in solitude, in any case. he asks now for her name, and she does not answer for a moment while the wind screams through the rock. here, perhaps, would be where some would give another title. she does not care for false pretenses and accepts that all her deeds, no matter how dirty, should be attributed to her proper title. "cassiopeia." she doesn't offer much else besides, for surely the wind will steal away much of what she attempts to say.