Firestone Hot Springs every single night's all right with my brain

Mal was heading home.  He'd gone to the edge of the northern forest in search of other prey and was working his way back now.  No dice.  Or at least nothing he was bringing back with him -- catching the odd small rodent just kept his strength up for the return.  He was still very not fond of the springs because the smell was so gross to him, but the fact they were warm made him come a bit closer.  He was still way too chicken to touch the water, though.

But it seemed he wasn't alone.  He'd spotted thew white figure a ways off and took his time ambling that way in case she turned and left but she hadn't yet, apparently in no hurry either.  Well.  At this point it was either gonna be super obvious that he went around her or he'd have to pass within conversational range.  Oh well.  At least the springs were on the right side of his forest to make it less likely to be a Moonspear or Nightwalker wolf -- it's not like smell would help him identify her from here.  Just gotta take that risk.

As he got closer it became obvious her foot was pretty messed up -- he couldn't see the facial scars from where he was -- but she didn't seem to be a walking skeleton, so in a pack probably, yeah?  Well, as long as it wasn't one of the aforementioned two, he wasn't too concerned.  He whuffed as he got closer, watching for a reply as he started around one of the pools, cautious as always.