Iktome Plains I hear the wind across the plains

@Godbrand 
Forwarded to December 27th :> 

After meeting the bearish male in the Sweep almost five days ago, Nyra had decided to wander even further North, exploring and sniffing out for any potential packs to alert Kynareth about. 
So far, nothing. 
But these plains, so close to the ocean which she could, from here, only barely make out as a blurred greyish blue on the horizon line. It was alien in its ways of comfort. 
Still, the monolithic woman walked, prowling casually as her fiery hues looked around. She could not explore all of the Wilds, especially now with the Saints slowly gearing up for what might be a war.
Truthfully Nyra knew not. 
The palefur stopped, looking up to the sky and the bald eagle overhead. Unaware and unassuming of any canine company, Nyra watched the raptor bird as it soared majestically through the chilled air. 
If only she could see one up close... 
Befriend one, maybe...

He wandered the coast because it felt familiar in this strange land. Unaware of his present company until he spotted her, Bran stood and stared a distance away. Her coat was pale, a stark ivory, with what seemed to be equally pale eyes. He thought nothing of her at first.

Though the man was also not the type to judge by appearance only. Scouting this region, he made to walk forward and continue on his way. She seemed lost in her own thoughts anyway, so he did not want to bother her. A nod was given as he attempted to pass - that was it.

Bran felt it was rude to ignore her.

Looking back to the ground, Nyra was visibly surprised, at least briefly, to see another wolf going by, with eyes similar to her own. 
As he nodded, she offered one in return, furthering it with a blurted but attempted-at-gentle "Hello." 

He was almost completely past her when she said a spluttered hello. The man slowly looked over his shoulder, but he did not smile. It was nothing against her - he was polite and courteous, not openly friendly. He was guarded in new realms. 

Time would tell if he ever changed. "Greetings" he said, his back still to her but his amber eyes trained on the woman. She smelt of a community he did not know - yet that was not surprising. He just did not think it was one of the coastal one.

Turning to face him fully, the Harbinger wasn't really well-versed in making conversation with wolves not either looking to join the Saints or on her borders anymore. It had been a few months now since Moonspear, maybe just as long with the Ursus wolves. 
"I haven't seen many new faces recently. My name is Nyra, I am the Harbinger of the Saints of the Dying Light. " 
She wasn't expecting him to know her pack's name or even reputation, but only time would tell if he had been told about the monsters that lurk in the Wilds. 
"Are you looking to join a pack at all? Winter is a harsh season, it would only make sense to den with others until Spring, at least." 

He did not appreciate being poached. Bran kept his stare neutral, waiting until the woman completely finished her spiel before rejecting her. The man was aware that many packs would like to have him - he was able-bodied and strong looking, yet that did not mean he wanted to launch himself at any.

"I am not looking" he says to her. His curiosity already died the moment she approached only to recruit him. If she was in charge of doing such a thing for these Saints, then Bran wept for them. She lacked the tact to bring it up further along the conversation. "I have managed fine alone for some time."

It made no sense for him to join a pack when he was able to live by himself - at least for now. Especially when he knew nothing about the 'Saints of Dying Light'.

She twitched her ears as he responded. Indeed, though he hadn't said so, she did currently lack the tactful nature of bringing such things up later and not up front. 
"My apologies for my boldness." The Harbinger said then with a ghosted hint of sheepishness, dipping her muzzle some as she offered the apology. This was now already awkward, and she knew it was her fault. Though she wasn't intending to poach him, she did still lack a good amount in the social field. Not that she was helping herself out. 
Whoops. 

She didn't figure he was interested in excuses, so she didn't offer any. 
Instead, she looked back to the eagle, still soaring high overhead. Hunting, perhaps? 
"Different question then...do you have any experience with those types of birds? Not as enemies or food but as...friends? Companions, maybe?" 
What a sad, lonely excuse for a wolf she was. Though back home, Zsuzsa had her Raven. And unbeknownst to her and everyone else, Whrist was also raising one. 
The large female's eyes betrayed a saddened isolation. One usually seen in kids that had to grow up way before they were ready.

Anyway, though to her this man didn't look like a bird expert, not everyone looked like the trade they persued....unlike herself.

She knew her fault, so there was no need to berate her for it further. The woman apologized for her blunder and he kept his silence throughout. Bran wasn't one to senselessly talk anyway. When she asked after the bird, he tilted his muzzle skyward. A great eagle circling overhead.

"No" Bran says honestly. He has not considered avians anything more than what they were; either scavengers or noble beasts that kept to their own ways. True, he has heard witches keep familiars. Never eagles though - crows, perhaps. Was this woman a witch?

"Birds are fickle" he continues "feed them and they will come. But once the food stops, they will be on their way."

"I just gets lonely sometimes..." Nyra admitted, glancing to the fire-toned male before going back to the eagle. 
Silence prevailed for a few moments then before the large woman sighed, turning her eyes the direction of the seas with a thoughtful loneliness. 
"I really suck at socializing." She mumbled, starting to walk past him

"Loneliness comes to even the strong" he offers her as the woman turns away. Proclaiming she 'sucked' at socializing, he withheld a snort. Perhaps it was not a good idea to jump straight into recruitment then, should she only wanted to talk to him.

"Then what are you good at?" Bran said, feeling less guilty about the situation but unwilling to let her feel sorry for herself. Conversations could be awkward for anyone regarding anything. He did not blame her for such shortcomings.

Pausing, she turned her lowered head to glance sidelong at him with her answer "Combat." 
it's a short answer, yes, but in summary that's what she dedicated her life to for the time being - training, learning the skills that came with being a warrior.