Firestone Hot Springs Arguru

The scent of the other wafted in her direction. There was a vague familiarity to it, but in its vagueness, she understood one thing: they were not Tartok. She knew most of the wolves scents implicitly. Even those not of the area would smell of familiar faces, and this she-wolf did not. Tonravik deduced she must have met this wolf in passing. They had survived another once before; she supposed she could do it again.

As the other approached, Tonravik turns her head alone to look in her direction. She did not mind the company. If the other desired to fall into the Springs, that was all well and good. Tonravik was not a social wolf, but she was not so as unsocial as her mother who would speak to no one. That hardly meant she was eloquent. Tonravik was guarded herself, however, despite her stance remaining appropriately proud. Her eyes remained upon the woman lest the other decide now was the opportune moment to turn on her.