Blacktail Deer Plateau anyone who knows what love is

She stared absentminded—that was, until the gentle calling of her name drew her gaze upward, brows furrowed in quiet consideration. The gentle form of Greyfalcon was given a surprised glance—the woman trimmed in fine silver with soft eyes.

She hadn’t spoken much to her prior—hadn’t truly connected with any of the Raventhorpe wolves, if she were honest, and it wasn’t their fault. She had secluded herself—her heart ached for the vale, and once more for a past lost. A family broken.

“No, I’m fine,” she murmured, ears splaying back against her copper crown. She didn’t wish to divulge her thoughts or feelings, particularly to one she didn’t know—and instead, she tried to cover this with a wane smile. “How are you, these days?”