More foreign words spilled from the russet wolf's lips, but at least he seemed to understand what she was trying to communicate. He was smart to keep the pale one - Jorma - upright and alert, although her inherent nosiness found her very keen to know what they were saying.
Perhaps in another life, she was a master of languages.

Helping a great deal more than one might have suspected from a woman her size, Valeska shouldered half of the pale wolf's weight without complaint as the trio began their rocky ascent. She would never be the slim, elegant figure that Amaranth was, but at least her stout form served a purpose; she had never thought herself beautiful anyway. She was too... loud, for one thing.
Most other females she encountered were long of leg and waifishly ethereal in appearance, while she might as well have been a fluffy bridge troll by comparison.

I am a Priestess, Valeska replied, timing her breaths to maintain an even pace with the russet-furred stranger opposite. High Priestess of Elysium; I am a devout of the gods.

It sounded very pretentious, actually.

And a very enthusiastic eater of caribou, I suppose.

She cast Jorma a curious glance.

What were you hunting? That is what I presume you were doing.