Sun Mote Copse I could lie and say it isn't personal

Further east was where her gut had told her to go, and so she did; sinking deeper and deeper into these unfamiliar lands, young and dumb and anxious for a break in the monotony. Her muscles ached from the days - no, more like weeks - of constant walking, fur ruffled and oily and begging for a dip in a body of water, eyes pale and sunken in. A mess, was what she looked like.

And a mess was not what she wanted to look like when she came across her first wolf.

How pathetic.

A stiff frame approaches a strange, feminine silhouette at a slow pace. Whether or not she had anticipated Wren's arrival from far away, she didn't know. Thunk-thunk-thunk went that little heart inside her chest, body rigid and muscles involuntarily flexed. The stench of stress probably radiated from her. She did not get too close. Only enough to where she could squint her eyes and make out the eggshell-colored peppering across the chest of the stranger; big, dark eyes that felt as if they went right through Wren's soul.

I don't suppose you're from around here, she whistles in lieu of a 'hello', thunderous feet meeting the earth in awkward moves as she begins to form somewhat of a circle around the misty vagabond, lips parting to drink in the foreign scent she carried with her. Her tone was light, yet monotonous, laced with wariness and suspicion. I don't suppose I know you, either.