Swiftcurrent Creek It's difficult to say what's luck and what's not.

There were scant notes of blood along the path; old, dry, almost washed away, but there. She'd recognize it anywhere.
The man that approached from deeper among the trees and wolf-scent told her much, when she caught him in her eye. He was rugged and stern, and about her own age, with a worn sort of confidence.
Heavy weighs the crown? She thought.
More overtly, she answered: Maybe I could help yew. Cue a smile.
The name's Aamek. Been travelin'a while, and yers is the first homestead I've seen in weeks. What deal would it take for a night of rest? Bite ta eat? Maybe swap some stories?
Her tail sways, and aside from the softening of her posture to give the impression of submission, there is a lot to be decrypted about this woman.