Stavanger Bay pump your veins with gushing gold

It did not take long before someone had spotted her. Echelon's paces tried to be a bit more hurried to dissuade the other wolf from intercepting her, but she leveled with defeat quickly when she noted that she was being pursued. Her pace slowed then, ears slicking back against her skull as she craned her head for a look at the wolf that hastily approached her. Just like the fellow at the glacier, this female carried herself with the markings of a leader. Internally, Echelon scoffed at her own odds that she would be happened upon by a leader of some pack, versus any number of lackeys that she could have warded off.

But there was no time to think of a prepared exit strategy this time, and she found herself forced to answer the questions that rolled forth. With distance between them, the Tartok scout held herself neutrally, and aside from her once over to size up who had approached her, she tastefully kept her eyes elsewhere. Her smart tongue desired to get the better of her, but with her temper softened from her recent lashing out earlier, she adopted the sense of sagely tongues. For now, anyway.

“Just a traveler,” she said, putting her best and kindest words forward. “I do not mean to come so close to what is yours, but I prefer to travel by the coast.” Within that she held a sense that she would not be easily detered from persisting her current direction, but Echelon felt there would be more questions at hand.