Does she know how to be friendly? She swears she knew once, and she tries to call upon it now. The smile she gives doesn't touch her eyes. She's too tired, too distant.

"I'm used to it." That, at least, is not a lie. Living with death is now a daily reality for her, glimpses into the ends of lives that pass by her like water. And it's not as terrible as the realization that none of it can be stopped. She used to see herself as a stone in the river, but now she knows she's more a leaf, to be blown down its course until the water tires of her.

She hesitates for a moment, uncertain of closing the distance. He seems warm and kind, and she is a cold creature by nature. "I'm Maja. Are you... Are you looking for someone?" She's not sure why he's here. Hunting, probably, actually, she realizes; most wolves do that.