Bearclaw Valley you're the voice that i like

gaze bore upon her, a feeling that did not go unnoticed, and so she would turn, peering at whomever it was that stared so shamelessly. woman of brown furs, alongside almost-ginger and a white underbelly stood before the snowwoman. indigo eyes looked petrified, and so dawn-gaze would furrow, slightly. confused.

polar-cub would draw herself forwards. hello, she tested, though the greeting came out sounding almost like a question, as if wondering of the strangers' responsiveness. ah, stranger was not right, considering she was a packmate. unknowing of the name of the still woman in front of her, she would ask: are you alright? your name?