Broken Antler Fen When I was a child, I heard voices;

She shrugged. His accent wasn't one she was very familiar with; and she'd met representatives of enough packs to have an idea of the languages and accents that existed in the area- or so she thought.

She got the sense that the ruffed man wasn't the type to put on a disguise. In all respects, he seemed earnest; while she searched for some sign of tension or nervousness that might indicate he was lying, she could find none. It left her wondering how he'd come to be so lost; he didn't seem to know where he was, or how far he was from where he'd come. 

Bison and plains- that didn't exactly narrow it down for her. 

"Yeah, I theen platheth like that," She said. "But they're not far away...You been travellin' long?" A time span might give her a better idea. Not far from the Valley were plains where bison and wild horses roamed- but he seemed too discombobulated to have come over the one, narrow mountain range. 

"It ain't far," She said. She found it difficult not to add a swing to her voice; listening to him speak was like following along with a catchy melody. "There'th a big hunt goin' on near here, though. The elk hunt...You heard about it?" 

To her knowledge, all packs in the area had been invited- if he didn't know about it, then he was definitely lost.