Deepwood Weald Beneath the dense trees

Movement caused the blonde to stiffen slightly, but only for the brief instant it took for her to register that he was not striking a defensive or aggressive posture. Like her, he seemed relaxed, albeit still slightly guarded. The two did not greet each other as friends, nor did they look upon each other with the same excited, hopefuly vigor that a younger wolf might have had. Niamh suppressed the instinct to lick her lips, smelling the scent of the kill on the air as still, she did not want him to believe that she had approached because she wanted to either take or be given the meal he'd caught for himself. Of course- Niamh would never turn down a meal, especially not this time of year, and even if there was nothing left but gristle and bone. Her relentless appetite still remained one of her most incorrigible features, but she saw no reason to change that, anyway. It kept her healthy, and she was nowhere near too proud a wolf to accept a gift- or steal from a less fortunate soul. 

But this fellow before her was nothing of that sort- and as he examined her features, she was distracted from any self-consciousness she might have felt had she known he was studying her facial scars by the fact that the male was missing an ear. He was in good form- well built, and she could only assume that he'd lost the ear in some form of fight or struggle...But the rest of him looked fit and healthy. Though he did not smell of any other wolves, or any one particular terrestrial trademark, he certainly seemed fit to take care of himself despite the fact that he was likely a drifter. She wouldn't be quick to assume that the lifestyle suited him- but it certainly did not seem to harm him. And there was a mildness about his lips that proclaimed no devil. Why he was out on his own was likely his own reason, and not her business- but he greeted her with a calm civility that made her feel like she had perhaps chanced upon a wolf who was destined to climb the ranks of a pack, should he put his efforts into fulfilling such a position. 

"Hello," She said in response, her voice slightly louder than his had been, but just as temperate. She'd thought of perhaps saying 'good afternoon' or 'good evening,' but given the dimness of the forest, she wasn't exactly sure what time of day it was anymore. It would likely be fairly dark by the time she reached the Copse again- the days were, after all, getting shorter. Part of her was hungry to bring a good, able wolf home to the pack, so that they could have another strong adult to rely on...But at the same time, she couldn't rush into anything. She would have to vouch for anyone she brought back with her, and Niamh wasn't the sort of wolf to put her name and reputation on the line for many others...She had seen others do the same for their family and friends- and she had felt her own opinion of her packmate falter when their new addition inevitably disappointed them, and drifted off into the wilderness. Still, with winter approaching, she felt the sting of desperation begin to unsettle her. With the access to Asterism Grove blocked, their sister pack couldn't band together with them to hunt, and she felt keenly aware of how lonely their existance was, and how demise seemed to be unwilling to shake its grasp on their small pack. Perhaps it was time to invest some trust in strangers if it would mean they had a better chance of surviving the winter. So she felt herself tasting the idea of two questions- was he really fit to join their pack, and would she be able to convince him to join them? 

Best not rock the boat before it even left the dock, though. "I'm Niamh, of the Firebirds," She said. She watched his expression to see what he thought of the pack name. There might be some humour to feel, given the fact that she, as a representative of a pack thusly named, was coloured somewhat like a goldfinch. He might also scoff at the idea of a group of wolves naming themselves after a bird that didn't even exist- or after a bird at all. These ideas made her a bit uncomfortable. She couldn't even say she was a beta or delta or anything like that- as they had chosen to run with a different heirarchical structure...But would mentioning that she was the unofficial 'Sergeant-at-Arms' be a bit too offputting? Did she even look like such a thing? And why was she questioning herself so much? This was just some stranger she'd met in the woods...But maybe there was something about the inquisitive, curious, dark cinnamon gaze that made her feel as though someone was actually looking at her, for once. This was someone who didn't know her- he didn't know what she'd done, what she'd been through- and for once she was being watched by brown eyes that weren't full of resentment. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and scolded herself as she felt her composure melt away a bit.

"Do you...Have you settled in this forest, or are you just passing through?" There- a question along the lines of business which had brought her to the area. That was a neutral topic, though she felt stupid making small talk. Was it small talk? Or was she trying to edge toward business talk? Of course, she did want to know if the forest was perhaps a suitable winter hunting ground, but if he'd chosen to settle here, it might mean competition. Of course, it might also let her know where he had chosen to haunt- and if he was on the move, or searching for something.