Qeya River fables

"Safe?" Another odd word. Other Shore hadn't been familiar with that feeling of "being safe" for a very, very long time. 

She was in a... den. Yes, a den, apparently. The woman's den. She had never seen one as warm and intricately decorated as this den in a while. In her mind, a den was typically a bleak cave where wind scarcely invaded and the cold remained at bay for some time, however brief. 

The woman continued speaking, and though Other Shore couldn't quite grasp every word, she could, at the very least, comprehend that she was saying something about having found her collapsed by a river and bringing her here. A river... the image of it seemed to elude her, though she trusted the woman's words. No wonder she was in possession of such an abundant store of herbs in winter.

For just a brief moment, Other Shore took note of her gentle yet firm movements, her tender gaze, and felt her exhaustion being overtaken by a greater sense of curiosity. The woman's gaze lingered on her. Do you remember your name? she asked. At the very least, she could understand each and every word clearly, without her fatigue rendering her stumbling over everything.

Her name... very few wolves had ever heard her name, let alone called her by it. My name... Should she say it? She had little trust with this woman, but also all the world's trust in her, both at the same time. ...Other Shore.

She waited for a moment, watching. Looking for any changes on the woman's expression, any subtle reaction. Deciding to fill the silence, she added, Your... name...?