300+ The sea. The sea called to her from beyond the confines of her room and Marika listened. The small town of Lunenburg, where Rurik lived, provided enough houses for the girl. She had chosen a small one, only a little bedroom and a small kitchen, decent in size for what she needed. A rickety old bed sufficed for the night, although with the sort of warm weather and the breeze coming off the sea, Marika slept outside, curled up in her wolf form. It was one of the few times she preferred her four-legged self, as clothes could not hamper her. It meant she was close enough to hear any calls, but secluded enough that during the day, she could sit outside and practice her pan pipes. The music, coupled with the familiar feeling of sea salt, reminded her of home, before everything went crazy and broken.
The wolfess walked out of her house slowly, the gold coins on her belt jingling in comforting ways. Her hands gently caressed them and she smiled a small, knowing smile. Her eyes drifted to the edge of the cliffs as she continued her dreamy sort of walk, her movements disconnected from her thoughts. It wasn't until quite some time later that she noticed the strange smell. A foreigner. Her ears pricked up and her tail swished nervously against her thigh. She was unsure of his intentions. But if nothing else, Marika was a Russo and she could fight her way out of a scrap just as well as any male.
It seemed, however, that this one didn't want to threaten her. If nothing else, he was weary. A traveller and immediately her heart reached out for him. She could understand him. She could feel the agony of miles of senseless travel. The broken, beaten mindset that comes with the futility of aimless travel. Marika wanted to run to him and tend to his wounds. But his intentions were still unknown. Instead, she waved at him and smiled, coming closer with every step. “Hallo zher.” Mentally, she cringed at her accent, but carried on, “Vhat brings you to zhese borders?”
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