Dawnlark Plains I'll see what tomorrow brings

Sea. Glen. No others he knew. Zola avoided the sea ever since her human encounter. She would not settle there. She would not be comfortable near it. The woman nods, humming thoughtfully. The Glen one seems a good start, only fate would let her be accepted somewhere. The gods willing.

"Many wolves here" she repeats "many sleep under same stars, but all have different culture" it was clear the man before her had his own. It was clear in the questioning eyes she had seen that they were not accustomed to her language. "dis difficult."

A language barrier was one thing, but if they held beliefs... It would be difficult to be accepted somewhere and be allowed to practice her traditions at the same time. "Should go" she utters at last, giving up on the moss hunting. She turns over one last rock and finds nothing of value.

"Long ground, much to cover" surely the pale man would understand this.