Wapun Meadow waiting in my room, and i lock the door

To say that Ibis was a poor hunter wasn't entirely accurate, but one could imagine that the soft girl was not suited for such activities. She could catch mice sometimes, or birds when they were available, but often she would rely on her brother for sustenance. Ever since the earth had begun to shake she had been finding it harder and harder to find meals, and had settled in to a new habit of seeking small morsels to make life easier on the pair of them. Okeanos could take down larger things—but as she had already spied, the large game was on its way off to safer pastures.

She did notice the scent of vole all around herself, and was briefly distracted by it, until she found another patch of scent that was wolf, and paused to look around. When she lifted her head her eyes caught upon the stranger's young, jagged figure. She noticed the tucked belly, the nearly perfect black of the coat—and those glowering eyes, the color of a dying sunset. From a set of too-dark jaws hung one such tiny morsel and Ibis' belly groaned softly, but she ignored this. It was impolite.

Oh, hello! Called the girl jovially, ignoring the vague sense of unease that had begun creeping like a spider along her spine. She smiled, waved her tail, and drifted closer, but showed little interest in the vole aside from a little glance at it—but then away, as Ibis wondered, could I do that too? Perhaps the meadow was bountiful enough for the pair of them.