The End of the World

When he seemed to accept her apology, a small surge of relief flooded the woman. Then he continued, claiming she seemed pleasant. Pleasant? The word rung in Kuwindwa's brain for a moment, but her blank façade did not crack. Not until he bowed his head. Then her brows shot up and something akin to a smile flitted across her muzzle: as before it was brief, but undeniable. She could not recall the last time someone showed her any form of respect, especially from the wolves in this land... they had a nasty habit of creeping up on her. It did nothing for her nerves!

"Áki, thank you," she didn't expand on what her thanks was for (though in her mind it was for that simple show and respectful nature of his words). Her peace would not flee so quickly tonight, and for that she could be glad! "I am called Kuwindwa." In her turn she bowed her head, mirroring his earlier movement almost perfectly before rising with her forepaws together.

She used to be a warrior, a guardian. She may not have looked like much now, but he reminded her she used to be worth the respect. Now? She couldn't always be certain. She had, after all, failed. Even so, it was nice to pretend for just a moment that she was still Wawindaji, a respected and strong wolf who did her duty with great pride. She could pretend the moonlight still shone on her in the forests of home, that the waves were the whisper of the wind through the trees... but her eyes took in her surroundings and she remembered who she was now: Kuwindwa, a loner with no name, no pride, and barely a prayer for the future.

"You speak with an accent. You are not from this land either, are you?" Kuwindwa enquired. It might have seemed a strange question, and an obvious one, but she did not know how much the speaking patterns might vary among the wolves of Alacritia yet. Oddly enough, his accent also helped put her at ease: he did not speak like the people of her land and therefore she was less inclined to believe he was sent after her...