Moonsong Glacier To regard the frost and the boughs

Someone is there in the distance. Unfamiliar by sight, but carrying the scent of the tribe she walks with. 

Cautiously, she approaches, first taking in the furry creature they carry. Thereafter, her eyes wander the wolf in present. 

Tipping her nose forward in a small, graceful nod, she then offers a breif greeting. Hello. 

Might this be Fallen Sun, she wonders, her small head slanting in silent question.