Shadewood I'm gonna run this nothing town.

They are not a tribe of warriors; this is a fact that arrives as swiftly as the stranger, and earns a slight scowl from the wayfarer. Nootka did not wait long before a patrol found her waiting there, but it was not malice or caution that the guard metes out, merely questions. Words. Inaction. She does not let this foul her mood nor her assumptions too strongly, though it was a black mark against them.
She sizes up the oncoming body with her shrewd gaze. Their gait, their posture, their build - and when closer, their health, she is critical of all she witnesses. But she is also silent for a long moment.
When the woman speaks there is a tone of strength - arrogance perhaps - but her own posture remains neutral. If there was, would you freely offer it? How bold. The lilt of her voice indicates curiosity, or maybe slight humor. Are the wolves of this dark place so well off that they can squander resources so easily? And at a time where they should be covetous rather than forthcoming? Her lips form a tense line as she considers this.
I am a hunter. I desire respite and can offer my services in return. Nootka says this with that same serious nature, and watches for further nuance from the guard. She is so much more than that, but the ember does not share her secrets easily.