Lion Head Mesa Disinterested eyes

She was deep in thought and moving around on her herbs when she scented someone else coming. She turned with a sharp twist and her lips curled upward in an “almost” snarl, until she saw it was just another wolf. The words that snapped from her lips were harsh sounding. ”What?” She then recognized the harshness of her own words. Her lips fell down again as if realizing she was speaking to someone. ”What can I do for you?”

Saved. She hoped. She didn’t mean to be rude, she just was at times, harsh in her words, over all harsh. Not used to the company of others. She looked the male over and felt – nervous? He was darker than herself, much more fit and healthier looking. Slate, who was on the skinny side due to her loner nature, suddenly felt very self-aware.

Did he mean to hurt her? Claim her? She took her nervous look around. Where could she escape to? Where could she go? Friend or foe? She looked at him again and not until now did she see his battle scars. And there were many. He was missing an eye, his face scattered with scars like stars on a starry night. Her gaze shifted again, uncertain. He was clearly a fighter, and she wasn’t. He could easily do something horrid to her and it made her uncomfortable.

”Do you need medicine?” She took a quiet step toward her home made den and took a glance toward her herbs. None of his scars were recent obvious, not the ones she could see anyway. She wasn’t sure of the outcome of this encounter, and it made her uncomfortable as hell. She didn’t take her eyes off the stranger. She was scared. Like a wild prey animal, she felt cornered and so very lonely. This was why she needed a pack. Protection.