Cricket Creek Bog If you could fly then you’d feel south

Great. He wanted to talk.

Wren bit back an annoyed sigh, forcing pleasantness upon her face. The other Saints wolf had let her go for her accidental trespass so it was only polite to return the favor and speak to one of them with courtesy. "You wouldn't" the brunette says now as he faces her. She remarks he looks a bit different than a regular wolf. She's never encountered a wolfdog before. The realm she had been in before seemed to be void of dog ancestory.

But she really gives zero shits what another person looks like. To each their own. "I'm new here" Wren goes on in her explanation, twitching her right ear slightly at the word 'dear'. She chooses to let this go. "I'm Wren. Who are you?" This was what conversations started as. A dance around, getting to know each other and ultimately exchange names. So she went right to the point, refusing to be caught in a tango. If anything from this conversation was to be had, it was that she met another of the Saints.