Blackfeather Woods and I bleed when I fall down

there is a peculiar familiarity about the frosty figure, tundra couldn't quite place exactly what it was but it left her feeling oddly at ease. an almost bittersweet melancholy stirred from the depths of her chest in response to the strange reaction yet with a small frown she pushed it back, putting it down to a little glitch in her system and leaving it at that. yet shadowed eyes grazed across her form with more intensity than she granted most as the breezes whispered eagerly far above. did she seem...troubled? it wasn't her place to care, and it was a bit of a bizzare assumption to make in the first place. sure her company didn't exactly radiate pure unfiltered joy or anything but very little wolves that had lived at all tended to. so sure maybe she was a bit frigid, but why did her mind leap ahead of her straight to troubled? her brow creases as she breaks the stare to blink off into the gloomy caress of the woods.

ears flick to catch the single syllable tossed her way and she nods as she returns her hollow look to the stranger. there's not much else to say, but then she moves on to elaborate; only slightly but it is not quite so terse as previously. "your pack..." she murmurs softly, head tipping to the side slightly. "i think i've met someone from there before but i can't quite remember, what is it?" she wants to ask 'why are you passing by if you have a pack?' but it seems too personal to launch right into. plus, her strange assumptions could be completely off, the girl could've been on some sort of mission beforehand or simply wandering like tundra herself so frequently did. aware that she was posing the questions, she offered some information of her own; accompanying it a small shrug of her shoulders. "i'm tundra anyway, i used to live here with a pack a while back." it's not a whole lot yet it still feels wrong to offer up information so willingly like that, in fact she's not sure why exactly she'd felt the need to. silence attempts to trickle between them once more but it's a fruitless effort in woods like these. ears tilt to catch each murmur of shivering branches and caw of vigilant ravens, relishing in their muted chatter as she awaited a response from the little spectre.