Fox's Glade frog's leg soup

She didn't know the voice that called. It didn't matter — she didn't know anyone, anymore. The news of Gunnar's passing had not sunken in until the night before as Sanja had crossed the bog, and now as she stood within the veil of these woods, everything felt heavy. It would pass. All things did.

Somberly the woman trudged among the trees without really paying attention to where she went; but she caught the distinct note of wolf-scent and stopped, sinking low and suddenly cautious. There wasn't exactly a hostility to them, but a lack of familiarity. The other woman seemed... annoyed, somehow.

What had she done?