Emberwood you just don't have any--what's the word--talent.

A voice rang out, slicing through the thick, hot air like a knife and causing vague alarm bells to go off in the back of Saarthal's mind. But then she promptly realised she didn't care, reminded her idiot mind that nothing mattered and cast her gaze around her surroundings to search for the wolf behind the voice. "Who're you?" Saarth grinned to herself, imagining all sorts: ragged, scarred pirate wolves; dark, broody, handsome types; beautiful dominatrix. Ah. The wonders of the universe. Bracing her shoulders, she plodded forward recklessly, fully aware of the racket she was making and enjoying every second of it. "Are you cute?" Saarth teased, pausing to examine the trunk of a tree (it was emitting a rather strange smell). Weird.