Whitebark Stream gold

she is not alone long. there comes another, draped in softness and simple kindness. "hello," comes her easy answer, her attention shifting to the wolf in front of her. this, here, is a start. "not here—the bank's too steep, icy." she warns; though the rock seems easy enough to navigate, beneath the snow is a thick layer of ice she remembers well from a few seasons ago. 

"what is your name?" she queries, gaze moving over the woman as she takes her in. healthy, young, and outwardly, perfectly polite.