Whitebark Stream You turn every head but you don't see me.

at the border they pause; it is Artyom's realization that has her echo his actions, gaze moving to his in concern. "I don't know why she'd have left—" she is sparred having to go into the troubling consequences of the faded scent when a voice calls out to them; she twists to find a bird-boned woman, pelt made of waves and wildness. she blinks; the woman's scent is entirely foreign, and yet she is a somewhat distorted mirror image of the woman they had seemingly just lost. 

"we do," she answers, straightening as her brow furrows in confusion and curiosity. "this is Whitebark Stream; I am Dawn, and this is my mate, Artyom." she answers, allowing the woman space to ask her own questions while she ponders her sudden appearance.