Otatso Wetlands mud masks

rala was a nomad. at least, temporarily. she moved, now, from the grove in which she had met the moonlit girl, back western, perhaps to search the mountains. moving through the leaves, now, blood-smell was thick in the air. a recent hunt, she thought. and so she would move towards it, curious, inquisitive, as she always was.

stranger scent, too. smell of mink rode the winds ; small game, the snowwoman knew, and so she traversed the grounds with less intent. hunger had been satiated by the huntress already. she only moved forwards due to being powered by the need for connection. growing close enough to see a patch of fur on the horizon, she let out a friendly bark as careful paws continued to navigate her through the wetlands.

once in earshot, she would speak: hello, nanuralaaq would hum, hoping for a non-hostile response. if not, well, little legs could carry her far - and quickly, too.