Greatwater Lake remember how i died when you started walking?

Gjalla had been closing in on her prey, her every movement deliberate and soundless as she crept closer to the unsuspecting hare. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled her nostrils, grounding her in the present as she prepared for the strike. But then, chaos. A careless crash of steps and the startled cry of the hare sent it darting into the underbrush, a streak of brown vanishing into the fiery forest. Gjalla froze, her jaws tightening in quiet frustration.

Turning toward the source of the disruption, her sharp gaze sliced through the trees until it landed on the interloper. Baela. That silver-pelted figure was unmistakable, even in the shifting light of the Emberwood. The woman’s bristling stance was met with Gjalla’s cool, unmoving stare, the faintest flicker of surprise (and maybe agitation) breaking through her otherwise impassive mask. Of all the wolves to encounter in these woods, it had to be her.

"Baela." Her voice was low and even. "Still as graceful as ever, I see." Gjalla's posture eased, though her tail remained still, a testament to her wariness despite the familiarity. She took a measured step forward, the aspen leaves parting with a quiet rustle. "What brings you out here? Or am I to assume you were simply trying to ruin someone else's hunt today?" The faintest curve of her lips betrayed a ghost of a smirk, though her pale eyes remained unreadable.