Grouse Thicket when you asked for light

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When the dawn broke the ember could be seen tracing a path beyond the darkened woodland; she had left it behind for the time being, venturing further in to the foreign land she had found. The thicket was quiet save for the dull sound of snow touching down around her — a bird called, something she didn't recognize — and when she looked up Nootka spied a giant blue heron's prehistoric silhouette.
She followed it through the thicket. Where the trees were thin she could spy its blue-black outline. When she lost sight of it, Nootka wondered if perhaps it was an omen. She paused in her exploration and observed her surroundings, curious of them, wary of them — and then she heard a song upon the wind which made the fur along her spine rise up like a wave of fire. She glared silently in the direction that the sound came from, and then ducked around the trees, eager to be away from the thicket and the potential wolves beyond it.
They were far from here — whoever they were — but it hadn't taken long for Nootka to travel this far from the forest she had found, and thus she surmised it would not take long for a hunting party (or something more malicious) to find her here.
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Tagging for visibility @Bane @Mazatl (if y'all want to join too)

From the coast the strigoi moved inland, awaiting Bane's final decision. He had a feeling, what with all of the wolves that the white-eyed wolf was gathering, or at least, intending on gathering, that the man would choose to settle soon. But for now, as long as the land lay encapsulated in ice and snow, he moved. The blood settled if he stayed still for too long, and Athan was not intent on dying just yet.

The strigoi pauses at a choir's rising tones, rumbling deep in his throat as he remembers his failed hunt here not too long ago. He is far from where he launched the attack on the woman, so he supposes that this is not the same group that attempted to take him down, but he is wary nevertheless.

He is stubborn though, and continues his venture southward despite their presence. This leads him face to face with the dull-toned woman, seeing her ruddy body from afar. The man chuffs lowly, his hunger not rising at the sight of her.

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It did not take long for someone to find her. She was not blessed with a winter coat of pure, crisp tones; nor one of darkness, meant to meld her in to the dark of the wood. Nootka did not fit anywhere. She had thought to find a place where she could fit, but the more she traveled the more she learned. So the girl stopped hiding.
Yes, she still traveled at night — it was something all wolves did — and at the very least, she could be stealthy. Her desire to avoid large tribes of wolves made sense as well; she was alone, an easy target, and not at all interested in the people native to these shores.
But it was not night now. The sun beamed down upon her and ignited her auburn coat, and she stood out no matter what she did. It would be best (having accepted the fact she could not hide) to face her enemies with confidence; she still had legs, and a nimble body, so if the stranger who called out to her wished her harm, she could escape.
At the same time, Nootka was a proud woman. A warrior. Fleet of foot and sharp-minded. A part of her would always want to linger, to taste the blood of anyone rising up against her.
In spotting the stranger, she stopped moving and watched him — but she did not run, or hide, or challenge. The girl just was, and she was proud.
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The sun was something the man attempted to avoid, feeling lethargic under the hot rays, but he moves nonetheless, feeling every part of him diminish, his speed, his mental processes, even his hunger. He is by no means peaceful or tranquil by the loss of the ever present lust, instead, the man feels empty. He cannot will the sun into setting, and simply accepts the loss, even as he stares at a lone woman. She would be defenseless, barring her own fighting prowress. The strigoi could so easily take her...and yet he simply nodding in greeting. 

His head turns in the direction of the howl, gesturing casually. Do you know of them? He asks, unsure if she is a resident of the Hinterlands or merely passing through.