Naniko’s manner was gruff, but not rude or cruel. It was a welcome change from the usual greetings, which usually consisted of, ‘Hey you, get off our land,” or, “Keep walking you mangy bag of fur!” Even being ignored was preferable to being attacked on sight. Finn felt her lips quirk wryly at how low her standards of interaction had become. It hadn’t just been a tough year, it had been a tough life. Not that she really minded, in the end. You got what you got, what use was it to rage and roar against fate? Finn had always let herself go with the flow, and so far the river had kept her from drowning.
Finn cocked her head at hearing that the wolves of Anathema lived underground. Interesting, but not off-putting. Finn didn’t mind caves. She had spent much of her young life in them with her father and brothers. They were quiet, safe places. Unless you managed to find one already occupied by a bear or a mountain lion, of course. It made sense, anyway. Underground, you couldn’t get buried in snow, or soaked with rain, or burnt by the sun. The only thing you had to worry about was cave-ins, and only then if you’d planted yourself on a fault line, or in a warren made of some kind of soft stone like shale.
Hearing Naniko’s words, Finn resolved to make herself as useful to this pack as she possibly could. Though she spoke of staying only for the winter, it was only so that she might not be disappointed if things didn’t turn out well and she was expelled from this place. If she managed to last the season, who knows… Perhaps she would stay for good. Either way, she wouldn’t endear herself by lazing about, not that she did that anyway. Finn had spent her life travelling, walking for days on end. A little hard work was nothing, and if she got to spend some of her time telling stories and hearing new ones then it was definitely worth it.
Finn stared at the red blood, before meeting Naniko’s eye. Casual as you please, she lifted her right paw to her teeth, slashing open the pad with a jerk of her head. Her jaws were not dull, but neither were they as sharp as a knife, and the wound immediately ached with the ebbing pain of such a wound. To her credit, Finn did not flinch, did not even blink the whole while. She had experienced far more, and far worse than this, to cringe now would be an embarrassment of monumental proportions. Unsure of what to do next, Finn hesitantly extended her paw towards the pale she-wolf, her blood dripping and steaming on the virgin snow.