Fate was on her side she supposed as she scented rabbit. She automatically jumped to the conclusion that prey was stumbling towards her, unaware of her prescene underneath the shade of the tree, but before she flinched or moved, other scents came to her. Death, some blood, and a wolf. All of which perked the curiosity of the girl. Pale eyes stared blankly into the woman's direction as she assessed the situation. She could make this interesting.
The wolf was Vináttan--she smelled strongly of Temeraire, even beyond the simple bonds of packship. She was related to him in some way. And she had a spoil from hunting, a freshly killed rabbit, blood still warm within its veins. She felt her stomach's fingers curl in her, but not uncomfortably so; it was more of a desire to eat the fresh rabbit out of pure luxury. That, being added to how bored she was, summed up a decision in her mind. A smile played on her lips, but soon it feel limp on her face as she stood up from her seat.
"Hello?" she called out, unsure, holding her arms against her chest. "Is anyone out there?" It was not hard for her to play the pitiful one--being treated like one, she knew how the stereotype that she fell under acted, and she nearly did it to the tee.
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