King Elk Forest Strike the match, play it loud

The clearing of a throat made her jump a little and turn. A muscled man of brown, grey, and black stood a distance away, eventually remarking on her unfortunate run in with a thorn. The old Effie would have felt completely at ease in the presence of any man, once naively believing that none of them ever held any Ill intentions. But her time on her own and the time spent with the small group of wolves that had eventually become her friends taught her that not everyone was good. So she studied him quietly for a few moments, noting that he seemed relaxed and not seeing any signs of aggression. There was certainly nothing about him that seemed evil. 

She gently touched her paw to the ground a few times to test how painful it would be and was pleasantly surprised to find only a dull ache remained even when she took a cautious step towards the stranger. Luckily, it doesn't seem to have done much harm, she said.

Her gaze moved over him, and she noticed the remnants of mud that still clung to his fur. A warm smile curved her lips. It looks like you've been busy, she said. Old habits died hard, and she found she was curious to know more about this stranger.