Dawnlark Plains From the scars on my arms

blood-smell thickened the air around rala, and so she would move towards it. perhaps she was not brave, merely foolish, treading the grounds without thought of risk or injury, but the weariness upon her face was telltale sign that she did not care. curious, and worried for the fact that the blood was that of a wolf, she continued across the plains.

words whispered towards her, akin to distant memories. pain in the ass, came a faraway voice, and so the snowwoman would move towards it with a clear precision. dark figure sat on the horizon, small dot moving upwards, watching and scanning. the woman moved forwards with a low tail, marking her lack of hostility to the stranger.

nanuralaaq would also let out a bark of greeting once she came within earshot. a quick 'i am not here to attack', before any misunderstandings could bloom. quick words were said, accented and decorated with northern decorum: what has happened?