Kintla Flatlands wrought in stygian visions

Out of her politeness, Echelon felt she received a bit of deference. But it gave her plenty of time to trace her eyes along the profile of the other, long enough to make her own determinations of this and that. No doubt this wolf had come from the nearby pack, but the inky Phase doubted she was the leader. A sentry then, perhaps. Not there to start a fight, just there to deter. Then again, the possibility existed that she was wrong, not that Echelon was entirely inclined to believe she was wrong in any sort of spectrum. Not today at least.

"Just travelling through," she said, adopting whatever semblance of reassurance she could. "I won't disturb your borders." Questionably though, perhaps she had. While her eyes lingered on the greyscale form of the other, she kept her tone level. Respectable. With any luck Echelon hoped she would seem business-like enough to deter the pale-faced sentry from holding her up for too long, or trying to escort her to whatever she deemed as a more acceptable path of travel.

But no doubt she looked like some heathen coming to pillage and plunder through their wares.