Dawnlark Plains lines for winter

she was older, and her voice was something that she had not heard from the rise before. something sweet, something that promised more. in some ways, it did little to disarm the feral girl. but that did not mean all was lost, for part of sunrise held curiosity for the tone this one spoke in.

sunrise would look at the other, eye searching for weak points if it came to it. she wasn't used to meeting strangers after all, and perhaps this lack of social knowledge with wolves who spoke would be a determining factor in whether or not she'd decide to try and speak.

a small tentative step back, though she does her best to avoid coming off worried, she offers her own nonverbal greeting; it was a warm chuff from her throat, and a dare for her tail to swing back and forth, all an attempt to seem friendly.