Every Little Thing She Does

Iolaire didn't even hear the woman approach until she spoke. Age seeped through the earthen wolf's tones and Iolaire grinned, head lolling to the side to look at her slightly fuzzy form. The woman's voice was low, but filled with mirth."Why thank you for the compliment, grandmother." The title was a term of respect where the tiny wolf came from and so she used it when looking upon the geriatric dame.

Rolling to the side, the tiny wolf dug within her pack, pulling out another corked gourd since her initial one was now empty. "Would you care to partake? It's my own spiced hibiscus mead. Crafted from petals, honey and a whole slew of other herbs." Pulling the cork with small, brilliantly white teeth, she took a slug. "Gives you some pep in your step. Makes you forget." She stared at the dried gourd, it's mottled exterior slightly blurry in front of her drunken eyes. "Makes you remember too." She shrugged that bit off and her head tilted to the side again, looking to the woman once more. Would the woman get shit-faced with her or would she be forced to drink alone? Not that she wasn't used to being alone, but dammit... it would be nice to not be alone for once.