Sun Mote Copse First thing we climb the tree

Niamh shrugged absent-mindedly at Finley's comment. Niamh had no idea what a Russian accent would sound like, nor would she have been able to pinpoint the language itself. Being somewhat uneducated, Niamh's natural response upon hearing a foreign language was that it would be impossible to learn, and therefore was interpreted as complete jibberish regardless of how much flow the language had. The wolves she'd met could have had a soft and gentle French accent for all that Niamh knew- but with having absolutely no experience with other languages, she still would have thought it was angry-sounding. 

Any language, of course, could sound angry when the speaker was angry- which the wolves had been. One of them had caused the accident, and it was his frustrated mate who had insisted that they help fix her up, rather than simply leaving her there, as the male had suggested. They bickered constantly amongst themselves- leading to Niamh's interpretation that whatever the language it was that they spoke, it simply sounded angry. Truth be told- they were a few wolves who had been short on luck, who were late travelling where they were heading, and were both tired and hungry by the time they traipsed into an unfamiliar mountain range and started a small landslide. The whole ordeal had been just as frustrating for them as it had been for Niamh. 

Regardless- it seemed that at least in her absence that Bronco hadn't been too much of a pain in the ass, so she nodded appreciatively when Wraen offered to leave them and go find food. "Thanks Wraen," She said softly, still ashamed that she'd failed her mission. She sighed, and gestured to Finley. "C'mon. Help me gimp my ass back to the den so I can make my son take care of my lame ass," She half invited, half assumed would be done, and left with her sister-in-law to find her son, and have a bit of rest.