Bramblepoint when the cold wind is a'calling

A small smile and nod were made at the prescription, knowledge to store away. Although, if she couldn't handle a meager prick in her paw then she could hardly call herself a mountain wolf—her line held no room for soft stock. There were other wounds she may acquire down the road that may benefit from sage, she was sure. 

Briefly she glanced toward Cole when he inched nearer, but then she-wolf, Gwyn, caught her attention again when she asked of names. 

Arnarkla, she offered.