Though she floated in the dark void of her soul, she was not oblivious to her body's surroundings, so when the sound of footfalls reached her ears they twitched, and her silver eyes opened to slits to watch the other wolf's approach as she surfaced from the void. Though she'd returned fully to awareness, she kept a sliver of that nothingness within her, wrapped around her soul like ice. "Heil, fremde," she spoke, her voice low and quiet so as to barely break the silence. She didn't otherwise move to disturb the woman as she slaked her thirst, but studied her with a distant interest. Her bright blue eyes and her golden pelt with its creamy dapples made for an appealing appearance but it was the way she moved that caught Katja's attention. Not the way she flaunted, no, it was the more subtle panther-prowl beneath the sensual strut. This woman was a warrior despite her immaculate appearance, a kindred soul of sorts. Katja inclined her muzzle thoughtfully. Still on the edge of that dream-state, that meditation-induced void, there was a hint of unreality to the scene around her, a hint of god-touch prompting her. "You are a warrior," she finally broke the silence again with her observation, her tone kept low though loud enough for the stranger to hear her. "I am Katja Finnvi." She cocked her head to the side slightly as she watched the warrior-woman. "Will you give me your name?"
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