A small smile threatened to crease the she-wolf’s lips as her companion repeated her name – he did a surprisingly decent job for the difference in language, though she still felt amused as others not from her home land would attempt to mirror her accent. At the incline of Alexander’s muzzle, the she-wolf followed in turn, agreeing with her silence for the moment.


Content to simply be, the pale dove gently cleansed a forepaw, every so often glancing up to the male on the separate ledge and she would trade a few companionable words. It was easy-going, and in truth, it was a meeting that Lífdís had enjoyed just because of its simplicity. There was no stress to prove herself to this wolf, and he seemed to accept her for who she was, rather than scoff or jeer, like so many rogue wolves tended to do. The cinnamon-eyed girl would leave her companion to his home after only a sparse hour, but she would leave with the intention of perhaps one day returning, if Relic Lore magically regained the water to sustain life.