Breath in the Fresh Scent of Snow

“Weary of me?” Sen repeated, feigning hurt and shock. “Now, I wouldn't harm a fly. No need to be weary.” While it was true she'd never actually physically attacked anyone, tongue was sharp and her words were quite the weapon. She made her way around the other female, inspecting her more closely as she circled her twice, then came to a stop in front of her. Sen was occasionally weary of those she met in her journeys, but on the Glacier she was not. Her arrogance was there and coming off in waves, and it was clear she thought overly high of herself by the way her head was kept up high. Had the night fallen before they met, her head would have been kept low in order to hide the patch of white on her chest, but there was no point in such an action while the sun was high.

“Tell me, what are you doing here, Patches?” Once again, Sen found herself naming a wolf based on how they appeared. It was a bit childish, but she didn't care too much about that. Actually, she didn't care at all. It sometimes got under the skin of others, so she enjoyed doing it.