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So apparently sniffing was part of the greeting, Shylome thought. Unless it was just the she-wolf attempting to place her scent. That would make sense. There were things like wolves back in Africa: painted wolves, feral domestic dogs, and jackals. Shylome, like all hyenas in her clan, believed no other creature on Earth came close to her kind.
So she sniffed back politely, the gesture accompanied by fleeting tumescence, and sat back to answer the questions.
"I am an African," she said confidently, though noncommittally. "I come from far over your sea." She looked over her shoulder, glaring off to the east at the water that lay so far over the plains, but still entirely too close. When she turned to continue her reply, however, she'd assumed a placid manner and a blank face. "The journey killed the rest of my cl-- pack." The "p" word came more easily than before. "We are very social in Africa. I would not be able to survive here with no allegiances."