Jade Fern Grove we're doing just fine

Great Unga's ghost—! She thought, when the voice first struck the air. The racket that crescendoed through the trees was enough to set her hair on-edge, and her teeth set in an exposed scowl the likes of which her grown children knew to fear. The voice was young and it was loud, both of which Ningiok had little patience for. More importantly, it was a shrieking sound filled with demands and phrases she did not recognize. It would transpire that the northerner's first encounter was with a child that couldn't speak her language. She had been minding her own business when the screeching of the gull-child spasmed through the wood, and now she was creeping out from a darkened pathway to seek the carrier.

Whatever they were harping about, Ningiok wished they would just stop. With a bold lurch around some weathered trees she slunk through some withered fern growth and with some crunching steps, stopped just shy of where the voice originated. It was a soot-sprite of some kind; a darkly robed youngster that might've earned some of Ningiok's limited compassion had the situation been any different, but instead was met by the fierce but tired glare of the old woman.

She huffed through her teeth, Ilorraallannarpoq. She knew in her heart that this child would not understand, so she made sure to reach with snapping teeth after them. There was no intent to do real harm (and in fact, the youngster was too far away to be caught by her fangs) but she snapped at the air all the same, a definitive warning that all wolf-kind could understand. Stop with the screaming, she would've said had she the ability.