Neverwinter Forest join: i use my hair to express myself

OOC: Thanks for joining! I decided to tweak Poet's personality quite a bit buuuut it shouldn't affect this!

IC: As she stood there, nerves fluttered through her stomach like butterflies, she began to second guess herself. Poet couldn't do this; she couldn't face strangers and try to tell them who she was and why she was worth their time, not when the sight of someone unfamiliar sent her straight into flight-or-fight mode. She was too shy to do this! Even as she stood there, fidgeting on her toes, her inner voice was screaming, RUN, RUN AWAY!

Maybe if she just turned around really quickly and snuck away before anyone got there... Yes! The girl turned quickly on her heel, feeling relief squeeze through her veins. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she began to beat what she considered a hasty retreat, as she had with any other pack she'd come across.

One step, two step, three step, fo—

Oh crap oh crap oh crap, chanted her inner voice as from the very edge of her vision emerged a wolf of jet black fur. She froze in the spot. From that angle, she couldn't spot the silver ticking on his shoulders, but Poet was focused mostly on the nervousness and fear that wound through her stomach. She couldn't run now, not without seeming totally crazy, but maybe that was excusable... But wait. A quiet rumble in her stomach reminded her why she should care about whether he thought she was crazy or not.

"You, uh... You missed it... There... Th-there was a jackalope." Wait, what? Her ears pushed back against her head, their tips practically raking her neck as she internally berated herself for saying something so stupidly false, but before she could backpedal and somehow recover the situation (flustered as she was, it would be a wonder if she could speak again at all), another wolf showed itself, this one bearing a coat of agouti that was considered highly exotic by Poet, who had seen nothing but black and silver wolves all her life.

This wolf wore a prouder stance, and she found herself weak in the knees, with her side turned to them and her eyes still staring widely off into the trees rather than directly at them. As if to catch herself, she slumped heavily onto her hocks, with her hind legs splayed somewhat awkwardly to the side (she could have made a pretty side saddle rider, if she wasn't a wolf), and tried to catch hold of her rapidly beating heart.

Don't panic don't panic don't panic don't panic DON'T P—

Viinturuth asked a question, but it was too late.

"P-please don't hurt me, I didn't mean to lie!" she suddenly wailed, her nervousness finally bursting over the dam in her chest and spilling out into hysterics. There couldn't have been anything more pathetic, truly; but Poet was a strong wolf, just not one that handled strangers very well. Or rather, meeting strangers. She could fight a stranger as well as any wolf, only... They couldn't speak to her while she fought, or she'd lose her nerve.