Emberwood seeking empty whispers

As she drifted closer she knew she'd be found out. There was no ignoring her scent for long. The last thing Stryx wanted was the unwelcome attention of strangers—and as she drew closer, she noted their conversation. It seemed as though they were strangers to one-another; the wind told her as much, though one of them was a pack wolf, of that she was certain. 

Kukulkan... th'fuck's yer name? one of them said.
Evien. That the fuck's my name. answered the other.

Riveting.

Styx paid attention to the path ahead of her rather than their conversation, although bits and pieces still registered. Names, places. These she could pocket for later use if the need arose—but it wasn't like Stryx was clamboring for a little status-quo home in the middle of nowhere.

Are you hurting? Sick? The darker one asked. While Stryx was always happy to avoid involving herself with others, and as she'd already helped her quota for the month, she was more than eager to keep going—however, from the look of the two of them they were too young to know many of her own tricks.

With a little sigh of resignation (and subtle roll of her eyes as she cursed herself internally) Stryx deviated from her path and bee-lined for them. It wasn't far, and as she emerged from behind a stretch of trees (one with a weird little carving, what the hell) she looked both boys over with owlish eyes. He ain't sick, kid. Looks tired though, and hungry. When'd you eat last?