Bitterroot Valley a place to rest my weary soul

It was not prey that would find her in her wanderings but Imaq, who'd ranged afield of the silver-gilded chief's claim in search of herds or lone wolves such as this one to bolster their ranks. When the northron caught sight of the blonde in the distance, she let out an inviting noise -- beckoning as she trotted closer, hoping to not alarm the girl. 

Imaq stopped a few feet away, hips twitching in a repressed form of a wag since she knew it was liable to look silly given that she lacked a tail. She wanted to make a good first impression on the stranger, considering they might be a possible recruit. A flicker of her seafoam gaze revealed that the golden maid was of canine descent like she, causing the piebald to warm to her just the tiniest bit due to their similarities. 

"Greetings," the cur tried out the phrase, smiling welcomingly at the woman. "I am Imaq," she introduced herself and waited in return for the stranger's name, hoping she hadn't bothered the weary dispersal.