Dragoncrest Cliffs canadian cold, canadian cheer

Silver-tipped fur stands on edge at the sound of a voice behind her. Oh, swiveling abruptly, she faces the stranger with a curl of her lip, eyes of hardened lemon drinking in the sight of her. She is younger, definitely, by the looks of it; perhaps this is what Chacal meant when she asked her of her opinion on children.
Yes, that's me, an awkward, but friendly laugh is pushed out of her lungs as she gathers the pile of supplies up with a sweep of a paw. and you must be...