Blacktail Deer Plateau are these the tears of ages, that wash away the wolfs way

Another approached her; Tunerk lifted her head and regarded him immediately, affable and genial in her own nonverbal greeting. Her tail had yet to stop in its pendulum sway, and her round ears cupped as he spoke. Tunerk moved toward him, body language displaying she meant nothing foul in her being here. She seemed to squint at his words, as though she did not understand them; if she did, the Northerner did not indicate as much. Tunerk gestured toward the earth, and she spoke the one thing she thought he might know, pressing her own body to the earth and inadvertently, answering a question he had asked: [color=navy blue]Anigan,[/color]

Or perhaps it had been advertent. Tunerk was not deceptive in nature; it had been too long since she had heard the crude sound of English. She did not know how it would sound on her tongue, or even if she could speak it—and so she would not. Tunerk sniffed at the descending things from the sky and snorted loudly; this was not snow. Whatever it was certainly was not good, either.