Whitefish River radioactive

His response startled her somewhat—how could anyone survive without a pack for an extended period of time? But she supposed she could relate. After all, it was the very reason she was here rather than at home with her entire, tiresome family. Despite that, Spine never imagined her self-inflicted exile would (or could) last forever. Eventually, hunger would strike over and over in her belly until she had nothing but a desperate choice. It would be the way with this male, too, but she made no comment about the matter. If he starved, it would be his own stupidity that allowed it to happen—and though her heart ached slightly at the thought of anyone dying, it was the way of nature. She would not step in to save fools that believed they could live without the support of others.

"Ah," was all she could find to say, before falling silent. He had confirmed that there were packs in the area, though they were tricky to find. Spine began to wonder if she was better off leaving this male to his lonesome self. It was becoming clearer that his particular quiet and lack of conversation was not mere shyness, but disinterest—he made no moves to really continue a deeper conversation. "Well, I think I may try to go find one for myself," she told him as she began to rise to her feet. As a courtesy, she offered, "If you want to come, I wouldn't say no to the company," though she did not expect the invitation to be taken.