Nova Peak Núuruachiu

the hush of morning carried far in the high places, as did she. anoré broke the horizon, then descended the shallow ridges with dew flecked upon her coat. the song met her ears before the scent did. of salted meats ready for the smoking. it reminded her of the villages back home, of the people toiling over an honest day's work.
an unfamiliar shape worked quietly by the frame. pale fur. gentle knowing. the air stirred around her like the hush before rain. for a moment, the ache behind her eyes pulled, but she blinked it away.
anoré stepped forward, "your voice is lovely." she says at first, giving the woman a once-over before inspecting her work. 
the meats were evenly sliced and drawn tight in practiced rows. clean work. she musters a polite, but authentic smile, "as are your paws."