Big Salmon Lake open up your skull, i'll be there

i'm lost.

lost; she repeats the word in her mind as her frostbound gaze assess him, tries to determine his condition just from appearance alone though she is no medic. she is weary; naturally. there are wolfeaters lurking about, after all and she is not so arrogant as to assume that she is entirely safe. nevertheless, his admittance strikes her as genuine and though the tension in the junction of her shoulders — instinctual — does not lessen, concern softens the corners of her lips all the same.

i could help you. the commander offers her hand as if it were an olive branch. sometimes it was ...and sometimes it was a sword. i know my way around this wilderness well. the words are genuine as they leave her lips. she has spent much time combing the wilderness for recruits, for herds during her roangeda's regime. if he seeks a place she could find it.