All good things come to those that earn them.
Kipling advises him with a lip of merriment and mischief, making it clear from that moment that his goal might not be so easy achieved. It was to her discretion and she took the reigns tightly in that sense. Because more than anything else, it simply serves to please her at that moment, and for the she-wolf she really needs no other reason to sway her will. She hums then, trying to weigh her next action because really here she is asking for all this help, and she's giving him so little in return, unless of course, he really enjoys her company so much.
At that thought she her smile grows a subtle length, and her eyes once focused on the distance as the moment of silence settles between them, now shift to glance at his scarred visage. As if taking him in for the first time all over, Kipling focuses sharply on his features. She couldn't decide if he was very good at fighting, so ridden with scars the outcome seemed obscure to a simple acquaintance like her. Then again, some could say coming out of a battle with all without being marred or killed would be a victory in itself. There are other small features she touches on, the dirt and sand wedge between the fur on his paws the way he carries himself, and of course other little things like he passionate curosity and the foreign weight of his accent.
Taking all of these things in account, her eyes narrow lightly, cogs turning quickly, and then, I knew a wolf once. He said he could read the stars, the seas and sky and that he could see things... like the future when it came to the weather, and the movement of the herds. Can you see things like that?