Qeya River I make shit to kick you in the ass a little.

The girl shook the excess water from her coat, not that it helped much. The fur along her belly was slick. She looked almost ill because of how thin the effect made her. Afterwards, when her attention was snared by a stranger's voice, Tulukiri stared owlishly after the stranger who spoke.

They didn't look familiar. She drew a step closer but froze mid-motion, then recoiled, because the wolf in question didn't carry Natigvik's scent in a clean, strong way. It wasn't like the full-brunt of Kivaluk's scent, or Sakhmet's.

Her tail immediately raised to be level with her hips, the rest of her rigid (or as rigid as could be possible, given how cold and trembling she was). Who the hell are you? Tulukiri all but barked, her face a glower.

What kind of village just let people waltz on in?