Alpine Lake circles

He questioned once again if she was truly alone—a warning sign that stroked the fire in her belly and she clenched her paws to the ground, questioning her sanity now and if she should run. Yet had he wanted to harm her, surely he would have by now—surely, if she had others clinging to her pelt, he would have determined that already. He was a wolf of prowess and stealth—of that she was certain.

“Alone,” she confirmed, refraining from chewing on her lip, though a frown pulled at her features once more, not understanding his next question—not, at least, until he clarified.

Warrior.

“No,” she whispered, shamed. “Not a vig—not a warrior,” she reiterated, her small attempt at his language completely butchering it. “A healer. Learning.”

Her tail gave an idle flick—he called her something again—or referred to something she did not understand spare the final word: travel. Did she like travel? No. No, she wanted a home.

“Travel where?”