Whitefish River a crack in the mirror

He didn't know what to expect from the girl - but really, Skaro wasn't thinking about her at all. The boy was concentrating on the water, up until the stranger spoke again, and he was spooked in to remembering. Briefly the wanderer sputtered and gagged upon the cool fluid, and he pulled his head away from the small hole he had cracked in the ice; Saena's words were met by a brief spray of water as he did this, and then it was only dripping from his mouth, while his tongue lay panting from its gape.

Where do you come from? The girl questioned, her tone beguiling. Skaro couldn't tell if she was trustworthy yet, and so he only answered with the vague little riddle, Nowhere. Everywhere. Then, as he slurped his tongue back in to his head and shook the water from his ragged chest, he took an interest in her.

A quick series of long strides had him close the gap between them both; it was fast enough to be seen as a threat, but as soon as he was within snapping distance, he ducked his head instead. The boy's hooked nose roamed; he sniffed at the air around her, attempted to inhale the scent of her fur, and nearly managed to bump her cheek with it as an act of deferral - or maybe thanks - for the advice about the water. Between his fidgeting, Skaro muttered.

Why? She smelled like pine trees and fresh snow, so really, not very different from his current surroundings. You travel all alone? When he said alone his ears popped up, no longer hidden against the blackness of his head, and fanned forwards. He could smell something more upon her though - the aroma of wolves. Many, many wolves. And this made Skaro abruptly recoil to give her space and save himself any further trouble. You travel alone but you come from many.

Not safe. His mind sputtered at him. Not safe!