saoirse was not too much of a social butterfly. she spent most of her days either with aylin in the medicine den or alone, occasionally a solo hunt so as to not feel wholly dependent on the generosity of ashfell — the last thing she wanted to be was indebted to them.

today would've been one of those hunting trips. or at least an attempt at one. her nose shifts aim between the ground and the wind, searching for the scent of something good. she was in no condition to be breaking ice to go fishing and birds were rare in cold climates such as the summit. calving season could not come any sooner, maybe then saoirse would have enough strength to make it out on her own.

but the only scent of a rabbit she finds was a dead one, the scent of its blood striking enough to call saoirse's attention before she heard the crunch of footsteps in snow. a woman the color of deep chestnut was the lucky hunter, white snowshoe hare clutched as she greets saoirse with a simple, polite tilt and a friendly wag. saoirse returns it, recognizing her scent first before her face. the steel maiden has smelled it before, so there was no need to defend territory.
the people of ashfell were kind, but most had a weight to their eyes. even this girl, friendly as she may be, has a story of her own. in that, saoirse is a little glad she isn't entirely alone, as selfish of a thought that was.

..good catch. saoirse struggles out, her voice stilted and scraping the back of her mind for an excuse to converse with the woman — it would be wise to get to know her roommates.