Dawnlark Plains I'll see what tomorrow brings

"Zola Abara" she would proclaim, just happy to feel useful. Since coming to the Teekons, she had been forced to start over. She had been forced to improvise survival and durability in this cold, unforgiving land. "is good to meet, Stajor... nua-tee." she had trouble pronouncing his name, clearly. Her brow furrowed somewhat but she breezed by it.

The woman moved closer, kicking up rocks and small boulders to see what was underneath. When she saw no moss, she would move on. Mayhap frost kill most... But moss also grow like weed. She was confident they would find something. If not moss, then something useful. "You belong to tribe?" she asked him now, amber eyes flickering to his face. She smelt many on his coat. It would not surprise her to learn he belonged to these northern tribes.