I'm pretty when I cry

Venturing far from the borders wasn't the smartest thing to do when one was blind. She knew she wasn't far, but she also hadn't told anyone she was leaving either. After hearing the loud honking of some geese, her curiosity piqued enough to wander alone. Taking slow, careful step, Pythia enjoyed the sweltering day that left her panting. Maybe she could lay in the water if there was a shallow area.

A loud rustling of grass and reeds has her head pulling up, slightly flopped ears perking as she listens. At first, she doesn't realize its a wolf. Their movements are quiet and methodical as if they're gathering something. It's not until the wind shifts, carrying with it that of a stranger toward her twitching nose. Perhaps they're doing something interesting. Pythia thinks to herself, always eager to learn more.

Nosing her way through the foliage, Pythia approaches cautiously. When the scent gets strong enough, she pauses and lets out a puppy-like yip. "What're you doing?" The snow-white girl poses, head canting, getting straight to the point.

"speech"