Hoshor Plains some things are in our control (and others not)

The northwind came readily to the plains and laved the landscape with a curlish ripple, beneath which ran the young woman, driven as much by the encroaching weather as by her hunger.

The twitching yellow of the dry grass would soon become something else entirely; the woman was eager to reach shelter before the sky could rip open. The ensuing deluge was sorely needed by the abundance of cracked topsoil she tread across. As Nuka roamed the smell of jasmine-and-clove began to hang in the air. It would not be long, now.

Distantly someone called out. Nuka could not make out the words and was unsure if she should proceed; she could not see anyone upon the field. The golden girl was blending in well among the grasses. They are like the swaying reeds at high-tide, thought Nuka blithely, and climbed along the hillside until it evened out. It was at this point she saw the poised shape of a wolf and knew the voice she had heard was real.

—hear me, please answer! Bellowed the girl. As Nuak had not heard the muggy, distant calling from before, she thought perhaps the stranger was lost. That they called for help. She thought to reply; but by then her path had almost crossed with their's, and so it seemed more suitable to approach with a level posture and low tail.

Why do you call? She would go on to ask, letting the slouch of her shoulders and bounce of her tail-end show her harmlessness.