The lands were wet and more unforgiving than the others she'd traveled so far. It suited her well- the cream and murk colored wolf looked at place in the swampland. As much at home as the moss that hung down from the tree branches and mud that squelched loudly below her paws. It sank between her toes and a delighted shiver ran up her spine and Fer chuckled softly to herself. She felt more alive here, seemingly alone, than anywhere else. The aromas were beautiful, a mix of earth and decay, the hues of green and brown melded together into a canvas of nature. Worlds like this one had a heart, had a soul and Fer swore she could feel it below her feet. A breath. As she stood ankle deep in mud, still as the trees, there was a breeze that rolled past her and ruffled up each of her hairs. She felt welcomed, safe in this beautiful landscape.

There was no comparing nature to wolves, it would always conquer and win everlasting. Worlds of decay such as the swamp were evident of that- however strong they wanted to call themselves they were nothing for places like this. Perhaps she liked being reminded of her place in this world- amidst the quiet where she could hear her own heart pounding in her ears.

Fer

Iris was the word of the day. There was a particular species of bearded Iris that possessed rich, dark purple petals. These petals were quite useful in the creation of dyes for various items. Since Iolaire could craft damn near anything, such dyes were quite useful. Perhaps she would use them to decorate her new cottage. The petals would need to be dried and processed, a task that she was more than used to.

Dainty paws picked their way through the marshy land. She stuck to tussocks of grass as often as possible. Having been born in a land with similar terrain, the tiny woman was quite used to traversing such landscapes. Periodically she would stop, pristine white teeth snapping off the head of a flower here and there. These flowers were then deposited into the bag at her side. The obsidian woman stopped atop a particularly dry mound of grass and seated herself. She took in the quiet, misty surroundings and gave a breathy sigh of pleasure. Solitude was a nice thing at times.

...Then a squelch and a giggle sounded.

Iolaire's solitude seemed to always be interrupted. Casting green and gold eyes towards the sound, she noted the presence of a pale, earthy woman. One silver brow arched slightly and she cleared her throat, alerting the other to her position.

The gentle cough was enough to alert Fer that she was not alone. That subconscious shiver tickled her spine and ran to the tip of her tail so that each little hair momentarily danced on end. It could not be helped- her body did not react well to being snuck up on even with so polite an interjection as a simple clearing of the throat. This time it was someone without initial malice or ill intentions but there was no promise of these things every time. Following the brief tensing of her muscles and that shiver Fer's body calmed into a poised relaxation; a cautious confidence. 

Fer's nose was purposefully pointed in Iolaire's direction and her tarnished gaze wandering briefly over  the monochromatic woman's form. In a now eerie silence, save the sounds of the bugs and the swamp herself in the background a cacophony of clicks, Fer's body was rigid and still with the except of her trusted nose, her nares flaring wildly and quickly with each rapid breath she attempted to take in more and more of this stranger's scent. Between nose and eye sizing up this small woman the best she knew how- there was a feverish pitch to her motions, practiced and poised but greedy all the same. As was life's game was it not? Creatures constantly engaging and disengaging, the sooner you figured out the ones you were engaging with the better off you were. Fer understood that much despite not finding company pleasurable. If only she could manage to care what image others got of her when they did the same dance... For now the murk and mire coated woman was otherwise silent; the sound of her breathing the only addition to the ambiance, gaze questioning and steady on her company.     

Fer

By reaction alone, Iolaire instantly though that the woman was a wildling. Some beast that had raised herself in the swamp and had little to no wolven interaction. The vacant stare and lack of speech was indicative of someone that wasn't versed in the art of conversation. Iolaire sighed internally and green gold eyes closed momentarily. Leave it up to her to stumble across someone in this state... "Such a pleasant greeting," accented tones expressed somewhat drily. "Do you need help down there or are you fine?" Would the wolf even understand what she was saying? They were in an age of wolven civility. No longer were they mindless dogs running through the muck. And yet... Raising one paw, the dainty woman looked at her claws in an appraising manner, checking them for scuffs or clinging debris. Io was quite proud of her appearance and kept her ash, onyx and snow pelt pristine and shining. Difficult for a healer and gatherer of goods, but damn did she manage.