Deepwood Weald Little weasels with tails of white

Heph tilted her head, his observation made sense as the she-wolf had seemed rather in distress. She hoped that if the separation sounded as set as it was that she would be able to recover from that. The one loss that Heph had not had control over in her life had left its own marks on her though, of course, she had not reacted in the exact same way as any of her family had to losing a brother and a son. But it was not quite fair to compare circumstances at any rate. Her voice was open but warm, she supposed if she saw Callyope later the other wolf might tell her more, but they had only met once so it was hardly Heph's business even if she did wish her well. "Ahhh well I hope she's well, she seemed friendly for someone who was shaken as you say." There was a slight smile but it lacked the edge of laughter, since she supposed that the other wolf had not acted that rashly or lashed out as much as she might have or Heph had encountered prior if she had been more than simply just a little turned around. The cutting words of some other wolves echoed in her head, their blows too though she had always been better at avoiding those.

She laughed outright, at Rodyn's response. He seemed much more the gentleman and unwilling to engage in such ribald humor although he understood it well enough and she had to appreciate that as well. She could not help adding a little bit more, breathless with the incongruous way he used such elocution to describe what she generally would have considered Atka and Dreven being driven by something less refined. "Well I'm not sure they're that shameless but I suppose it's the season for it." But she turned the conversation to other things so they need not linger on it since it did seem to be something that he would not enjoy and while she could appreciate a good exchange of words she wanted the wolf in front of her to likewise enjoy her company. "I think spring would have to be my favorite time of year, but I like winter well enough?" There was a slight question at the end, an upturn in the turn of her voice. Talking about the weather was incredibly tame but she found the movement of the seasons to hold a certain relevance to her - it dictated certain rhythms to the lives of wanderers and pack wolves alike.

Really sorry, heads up/explanation for gaps in replies about the next two weeks being increasingly hectic on my end (grad school apps + a lot of extra work before the holidays)