Silver Moraine kill

Another presence. Her hackles lifted slowly, standing sharp and rigid—her eyes snapped toward the man who matched her in physique. Her gaze passed over him, noting the subtle interruptions in the pattern of his furs that revealed to her his strength for the scars that caused such a thing. Subtle, easy to miss for those not of their ilk. He, too, might note the same of her. Perhaps not, though; she was not so well-kept as he, furs windswept and wild. Nothing marked her face, yet, either. 

Unreadable though she was, she dipped her head a measure in respect for his place here. His scent was one of the strongest—either he was this packs most diligent guardian, or its leader. 

His question was heard, and her dull gaze shifted from him to the path she intended to take—no man’s land. She did not intend to trespass, nor come any closer when uninvited. Nor did she anticipate the latter to transpire. This one was guarded.

She would not press her luck. What did she seek out here? Most immediately, food, and then she shakes out the tension from her furs, yawning in a way to reveal she was no harm to him. Food, but she would not steal from pack. Tikigâk respected borders, not so dimwitted as to cross them. 

She gestured to her path—indicating she would not cross into his land. This is the way that I walk, she revealed. She did not anticipate receiving his trust, but the blunt woman had no reason not to provide him with her candor. She took a step in that direction, and then another as she heeded the impressive man with an ear that turned to him.

Would he accompany her across the span of his borders, or let her go?