Golden Glade Born of fire, bound to nothing

Aitana’s grin sharpened at the invitation, an almost lazy amusement lighting her amber eyes. “Mictēcacihuātl,” she repeated, eyes washing over the woman. “That’s a mouthful. Mictec, huh? Easy enough to remember.”

Something about her sparked interest—not quite admiration, but close enough. But Aitana wasn’t one to attach meaning too quickly.

“Aitana Tecuani-Calderón,” she offered smoothly, a smile upon her face. She recognized her name was just as much a mouthful as hers. "But Aitana works." She tilted her head slightly as she fell into step beside Mictec.

The offer of a place to stay was heeded with a preppy twitch of her ears, and a sway in her walk.

She kept her steps deliberate, never fully dropping her guard but making an effort to match the other wolf’s pace. “Generous of you,” she spoke breathlessly. "I'll help out in any way I can, chica."