Razorback Ridge you carry the heavens in your eyes

Somewhere on an errant breeze, Wylla picked up the unique odour of a mountain goat or two, but there was no telling how far away they were. Without back-up, she wouldn't have a chance in hell of even ripping a chunk off a mountain goat, and she wasn't about to assume this stranger would lend her a hand for no reason. She certainly wouldn't if the roles were reversed.

She did pause when he made a low sound at her, standing to attention and pressing her lips tightly together. Hello, she said, not without her usual brand of questioning suspicion tacked on at the end. Can I help you? One could argue that Wylla had approached Melkor, making her question an oddly placed one in this situation, but Wylla never paid much mind to trivial details like who started what and who owed an explanation to whom.

She opted instead to always point the finger elsewhere.