Whitefish River a thousand times good night

Ira's voice has her turn back sharply, a forepaw hoovering above the unreliable earth. the girl neglects to answer save for an "ok," in truth, she'd rather have continued alone. her attention is drawn away again, however, by the staccato crunching of twigs and the brief rush of a hunt. 

she turns away from her mentor and blinks at the man that emerges from seemingly nowhere, hackles pricked and tail curled instinctively. he seems harmless, but her irritation coupled with her surprise at his appearance has a sharp "who're you?" tear away from her lips.