Stavanger Bay Morgenstern Balding

The idea of things turning into other things was not wholly strange to Heph. After all rain came from clouds, and ice could turn to water and water back to ice. But she was not so sure, she had never seen medium sized mushrooms between those sizes and she had never seen smaller mushrooms turn into stone. "Maybe, I've never seen a tiny mushroom turn into a stone though..." But she let her voice carry over the words in suggestion opening up the conversation through the trail at the end of her statement.

She listened to the thought with consideration but it was difficult to focus. "Moose are big, but I guess we still do hunt them. I'm sure some of them are vengeful enough to hunt those who thought to chase them." She said, her voice turning away from its naturally easy tone into something that stuttered to halts along the stops and starts of words. After all it was not as if moose had never killed wolves, her own brother came to mind, more from her pack. Why would they need to swim to kill when they already did it so easily?

Aliens. From another place? Heph was not sure she had heard that word used like that - to describe the way someone looked rather than simply where they were from. A soft noise of question hummed from her throat. "Like they're a different kind of wolf, or they are like foxes and coyotes, they share some traits and not others? Alien?" It was a strange way of describing something. Sure there were wolves that looked differently from one another and even other canines that were not wolves. But she had never called them alien before unless they, like her, were not from wherever she had chanced upon them. Most foxes she had met had avoided her, she did not blame them if they had tried to scavenge her kills while she was there she might have killed them.