[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

Euphemia’s smile glowed with a stronger sincerity when Iglux mentioned that she was a hunter, and that the leader was named Cen. In this short time, Euphemia has developed a slight affinity for the silver northerner, as she thought her to be quite open and sincere and competent. These things were more accurately communicated through energy and body language than verbal connotations, anyway. If Iglux was all of these things, and she was not a ‘pillar’ of Saatsine, then that boded well for Euphemia indeed.

So, the silver maiden allowed herself to trust.

There was an offer, the wolf equivalent of meat and mead. She returned the female’s cant of her head, unable to immediately think of a reason she would turn down such an offer. Euphemia did wonder if she needed to introduce Iglux – or perhaps more accurately, this Cen – to Tiberii and Aurelia. Later, she chided herself. They did not need to helm every endeavor the pack Dawnbreak made.

Yes, she agreed. mayhaps we could fell one, Euphemia suggested, rolling her shoulder blades beneath her alabaster pelt. together. The maiden was no great hunter to begin with, but she was not unskilled – but she was more practiced on the middling mountain ungulates of Frostfang Vale. Then, Euphemia offered a breathy laugh and a sidelong apology. …so sorry, she chimed, lashing her tail.

Then, simply, Hunt together?

---

There is a harry of words Iglux̂ does not pretend to know– until the one that seemed the same in all languages breathes to life on Euphemia’s tongue.
Hunt.
Such a welcome sentiment brings the silver from her spurs to stand at last full and streaming in dappled light before the smoke-point woman, tail bannering in vibrant flow.
“Hunt,” she echoes, stepping from one forepaw to another, as eager as a girl invited to her first. “Hunt, send to people of Dawnbreak from Saatsine. Make knowing,” she suggests in slipshod common, fervent to see what trails and preykind were sought after by the skilled healers of Euphemia’s band.

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

Euphemia was excited, her heart and veins thrumming with the thrill of possibility. She felt excited to tell her sisters, the pillars of Dawnbreak, exactly what she had learned this day of new packs sharing their space here in the north. It was valuable intel, whether they were friendly or mal-aligned. The tundra was a crowded place, and every new group that popped up was a drain on potential resources.

And with such things and plagues and mass hysteria, it seemed a good idea to be wary. Difficult times were afoot, and even more difficult times continue to lay ahead.

But Iglux seemed nice, and quite generous to boot. She represented a group of elk-hunters, who wished to share their elk with thine. It made Euphemia feel happy and hopeful, for once – but it was an emotion that the maiden held at arm’s length. Iglux would move on eventually with the herds, and Euphemia’s efforts at diplomacy and friendship would have been for naught.

With a practiced touch, Euphemia swallowed her eternal sadness and nodded as the foreign woman confirmed their future commune. I will, she acquiesced sweetly, assuming this had developed into an invitation to Dawnbreak as a whole. She then gave an awkward side-step, as if she felt the need to inform her sisters right then.

Meet soon, Iglux of Saatsine? the maiden crooned the question, not sure where she would be able to find this group of wolves, but she had their scent, and was certain she could snuff them out. so our packs can make knowing?

---

There is enough giddiness in Euphemia that Iglux̂ feels it reflected within her chest, in readiness of legs to tear back to the lake.
Was there any bond more mutual than that between hunters and healers? For reasons of her own, Iglux̂ might find herself in need of them before long.
But she slows this thought. She was a fragment upon Cen’s tableau, and only her chieftain would decide if such a relationship was truly necessary.
“Soon,” the huntress promises all the same, waving the silver banner back over her hips. It is a new vulnerability. For when she looks to Euphemia, she sees a woman who might become a friend.