She chose a piece, hefting it in a slender palm - a long and narrow icicle, a little curved. She lifted it merely to tuck into her shoulder belt for safety, but in a single heartstopping moment scented the stranger, saw him approaching and turned the movement into a brandishment of the glass to aim point-first with instinctive defensiveness. Efficient eyes ran businesslike over the husky. He had the build of a fighter and various possibly tribal markings, possibly a bad sign, although his scent was unfamiliar and not like the raiders. His words were neutral enough, but Caspa knew she carried the scent of a pack at was and fear made her tones dark as she answered 'how unfortunate for us both.' She raided her usually orderly mind for all she knew of the foe, the Great Tribe, recalling they hated hybrids... And took captives. 'If its prisoners you hunt, you can think again,' she threatened. He might owe other allegiance but either way captivity had been a whisper in the wind for some time now and in a godforsaken place like this she would not trust anyone easily.
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