Hoshor Plains Don't feed me, I will come back

for @Nephele whenever you have time :) Just lmk if I make any mistakes here and I will edit, relatively new to the whole pack thing

She hadn't spent all that much time acquainting herself with the land, as the large one had told her to do. She didn't want to lose sight nor scent of him, and made her detour speedy and quick before she'd trail after him, albeit, offering some space for once. She didn't want to lose the blessing she'd been given. She had picked up a small bundle she'd stashed within some rocks on the way, fit with the herbs she'd had the time to gather on her travels—it was a pitiful haul, really, but supplies were supplies—and she couldn't exactly be blamed, for a loner had little use of a mountainfull of herbs. They'd go to waste, and she simply loathed waste.

She'd find more anyways, now that she'd grown knowledgeable about the growth patterns where her precious herbaceous plants took root. Precious, precious things, and here she was, offering them up. She wished for a snack in return. 

The man she'd met in the fields had told her to meet his wife, Nephele.

Nephele, Nephele, Nephele. The name played again and again in her mind, for surely if it stopped, the imp would forget. In her haste and in her tunnel vision, she'd played the woman's name so many times she'd begun to forget that of the man who she'd skittered after to get here. Ark-tus? Akratos? Somethin like that. She was sure she'd hear it again, he need not know of her forgetfulness.

Hunger still gnawed at her frame, its grasp was a truly unkind one, distorting her features, dragging skin and fur to meet with the bones concealed within her body. Field mice and rabbits were insufficient, and though she had little room to be picky, rotting carrion wasn't ideal either. She'd banish the thought of hunger from her mind, difficult as it was. 

Be good. be good. be good. First impressions are a big deal, but then again, so many things are a big deal. When everything is a big deal, nothing is a big deal. What was she supposed to do again? Scatter brain. Focus! Nephele. Nephele. Nephele.

How kind of Mr Arksus too, to leave out exactly which wolf was his wife. A pretty one, surely? Most women were pretty. That didn't narrow it down. Shoot.

The wretch would resort to slouching down onto stormy haunches, staring around this serene little homestead of theirs wide-eyed and expectant.