Ocean's Breath Plateau old souls

From here, the scent of smoke was not overpowering, though she could see it curl up into the dusky sky. Fire and salt. Her younger sister, perhaps, could read the omen that lay within the natural incense— but reverent of the deities as she was, Meteora was a she-wolf of physical aptitude over the spiritual. Perhaps it meant there would only be destruction, here, or perhaps it meant rebirth. The silvery amazon decided for herself it was the second.

Her sharp eyes caught a dark silhouette emerge from the burning trees, and Meteora watched impassively as it drew nearer and nearer. She did not move as the other she-wolf; upon neutral territory, the Nereides felt no reason to either relax or tense her proud stature. The woman, understandably, smelled of fire and burning fur after her trek through the wood. Meteora crinkled her nose for the twinge she felt there, but after a moment she sneezed, unable to stifle it.

"Chaírete," she responded, the potent scent making her eyes sting. In her lilting, heavily accented common, she asked, "Was that your home?"