Wapun Meadow Don't you dare forget the sun

When he turned toward her, she saw the scars he bore. One of his eyes was as pale as hers- including the pupil, where it ought be dark. From the look of it, he'd been involved in fights- more than a couple, from what she could guess, unless he'd somehow managed to recover from a particularly brutal attack. She found it difficult to guess his age- he might be weathered, or he might simply have been through unfortunate circumstances. Remove the scars, though, she she thought they might be similar in age. 

Maybe, She said, with a casual shrug. You really the kind of wolf who goeth around offerin' help to random thtrangerth, though? She asked. Appearances weren't everything- but she knew not to overlook it when a wolf had that much scarring. She gave him a grin, and flicked her tail. I'm jutht teathin' ya. No- I live jutht that way, She said, gesturing back toward the treeline in the distance, where the valley sank out of sight. I jutht hunt in the meadow. You? She asked.