Deepwood Weald stacks of paper

Winter was none the kinder to her -- harsh winds pierced russet fur and seeped into her bones, shivering as she walked, pelt dusted with pale flakes of snow as it swirled in a dizzying dance from the pale sky above. Sun had just risen, dawnlight illuminating the path before her. She was far from the borders of Courtfall, had been for days and days. The scout felt snow crunch under her paws as she continued walking, weaving through the trees as they reached up towards pale sky, turning rosy pink as the sun continued to creep higher into the sky. 

For the most part, she had been alone during her travels. Andromaque was perfectly fine with this -- she had been surrounded by others while within Courtfall's borders and had grown weary of it. She missed the life of being a wanderer, hence why she had decided that perhaps being a scout was the best for her. There was opportunity for her to be alone, wandering for the benefit of Andraste instead of just for the sake of it.

Yet, today she was not alone.

It was first his scent that she caught glimpse of, intrigued. Perhaps it was a wolf of another pack that she could question. Andromaque turned to follow it, trodding through the woods, leaving a trail of prints behind her as she went. The scout followed the scent until the pale wolf finally came into view and she paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. Of course, she could hold her own in a fight, and thus far every wolf that she had encountered had been kind to her. Taking a breath, she moved closer, pushing aside her doubts.

"Hello," she called out, words carried along wintry winds, nearly rushed away on the breeze. She had spoken loud enough, however, that her voice was strong enough to carry to him. She stood, head lowered slightly to show that she was not a threat to him, tail wagging behind her.