Devika leaned forward slowly, her posture open, encouraging. Friendly.

She preemptively sniffed the air. The sharp tang of fear was fading, replaced by something steadier, calmer. Good.

But another scent tugged at her attention, thick and cloying, curling around her senses. Her nose crinkled. It was that strange, sickly-sweet smell that clung to the odd-colored snow in the far north—purple, unnatural. She had done her best to avoid it, but here, it was unavoidable.

Lingering here was unwise. She knew that. But for now, her focus remained fixed on the stranger before her.

Maybe, just maybe, she could convince the she-wolf to flee south with her, away from the sickness seeping into the land, before it took hold of them both.