Shadewood Dear me, you'll be older one day

Yosemite had done his best to stick close to Nine in the days that followed their induction into Rusalka; partially because he was frightened of their new packmates, and partially because (even if he was reluctant to admit to such sentiment) he wasn't sure how Nine might get on without him. He'd made a solemn oath to the other man, and that meant they were team, even if they were team with the larger society of Rusalka as well.

But he wanted to try his hand at hunting again, without Nine looking over his shoulder and making him nervous. He could try to track, at least, although even that was a challenge in the constant downpour. They were a bit more protected here in the forest than other places, but everything still smelled soggy and muddled.

This was what led to him "running into" Rosalyn; he would normally have avoided someone so scarred and seasoned, but how was he supposed to tell where everyone was, these days? He froze when he caught sight of her, but gave a tentative wiggle of friendliness in the next moment and ventured a hopeful, "Hello."

He remembered being introduced to her, but not quite what her name was; something with an R. Rusalka? It had to be something other than Rusalka, didn't it?

"I'm just — looking for things. To hunt," he told her, wagging his tail as if to appease her great (and wholly assumed) anger. Also, probably he managed to say his actual name when he was introduced to them, so Rosalyn might know him as Yosemite or Jojo. Who knows.