that thieving bastard

Lia scanned the surrounding area, blinking to adjust to the change in light as the sun faded behind her.  The wind was against her and she didn't catch the scent of wolf again. Perhaps the other had already left the area, and she had caught only the last remnants. But she found she couldn't relax, not really. Her heart kicked up a little in her chest, proving she has overcome her fears yet. 


She took a few steps forward - and then a giant of a wolf appeared over the next rise. The stranger was a pale woman, with swirls of blue brushing almost ethereally over her coat. But even that paled to the wolf's eyes. Oh, God, her eyes. The shock of blue reflected the sun like fire, glinting against the many angles that made up the whole. Like they had been carved from precious stones. She'd never seen their like. She felt an icy chill up her spine. She didn't believe in ethereal beings, in God's. She knew no God existed in the same world as her mother, as slavers and abusers. Justice wasn't given by someone you prayed to, it was forged by those who fought for it. Like Art, and Briar. Which meant this wolf was made out of flesh and blood. Just a wolf, and one who was speaking to her. She realised she was staring, and she blinked, trying to steady herself. She dipped her head low in a respectful greeting, manners beaten into her long ago. “Good evening, Vanta. I'm Lia” She said, her voice quiet. “I didn't mean to disturb you, I was just passing through” actually, she'd been looking for somewhere to bed down. But Vantas words indicated surprise at finding another wolf here. She ached to ask if the wolf's eyes were a gift/curse of the long night, as her own stone horns were.