Overture Downs Oh, misty eye of the mountain below

More nonsense, but this time she was confident that it was meant to be words. She just couldn't understand. Something Bjarna said sounded familiar, though. Almost like a word she knew.
Halp? Do you mean help? She questioned quietly, a little shamed by the possibility alone. Did she really look as lost as she felt? It was sweet, though, offering help to a stranger. It was something Rose would have done.
Rose. She would have loved to meet this strange wolf; she had always loved new experiences and new people. It was what the girl had loved about her. It was what Father Fire had hated about her. Her gaze drifted, as if Bjarna had ceased to exist.
She should be here. Rose had wanted this more than anyone. She would have known what to do, what to say to those wolves under the trees. She would have handled Bjarna's languages with grace. And she would have been happy, something the lost girl had seemingly forgotten how to do.