Broken Boulder from the edge

It was not the gargoyle's presence but one that held his scent upon her pelt-- the posture of the rather pretty girl catching her attention. She offered a casual sweep of her tail, muzzle canting lower in acknowledgement to the she-wolf's stake in these lands. Interesting. Was this Mahler's doing, moving from the mountains, or had the dynamics of the pack she had once run with segregated from anything familiar?

"To the point," she practically purred in her smoky voice. "I can appreciate that. My name is Ketzia." She allowed the slip of her tongue to graze along her lips in quiet thought to the woman's statement. "My intentions depend solely upon a wolf who I believe runs with you. Does Mahler still lead?"