The sound of snuffling and scuffling was something that attracted Sage's attention, though she tried to ignore it. The fact that she heard it not far from her densite was the reason she felt so compelled to check it out, to see who it was and what it was that the scuffling and snuffling was all about. Naturally, she didn't want to have something snuffling and scuffling all night while she slept, especially if it meant danger to herself, though she did toy with the idea of ignoring it and sleeping elsewhere. She yawned and looked longingly at her makeshift den; she wanted to sleep, not to check out whatever it was making those sounds. She took one more step toward her den but stopped. Would I be able to sleep, she asked herself, Not knowing what it was?

The answer was negative so she heaved a long sigh and turned away from her den. She flicked her ears forward and lifted her head- the sooner she caught sight of whatever it had been that she'd heard, the sooner she could satisfy her curiosity and head back to her den for the night. She sniffed, but the still air wasn't helping her much. It was only when she caught the scent of another wolf that she balked momentarily, before she set forward again. There was another scent in the air, something fetid and rotten- but what would have been rotten in the Winter that wasn't meat? Everything that was dead, that wasn't meat, was below the snow. Something didn't make sense.

She only recognized the scent when she was within sight of both the male and the offending thing, dark and still, lying on the snow. She looked at the mushroom first, warily, before she even looked at the male. She knew what it was by the scent of it now, an old memory had been recalled as soon as she saw it. The male was a dark, sooty sort, with blends of charcoal and tawny brown blended together. He outweighed her easily and would have stood much taller than she even if she'd been trying to stand as tall as possible. It was hard to say much about the attractiveness or lack thereof in his facial features as even the most dashing creature looked quite woebegone and ugly when they had such a sour look on their face. She deduced immediately that he'd had a nasty encounter with the mushroom- whether by accident (which might mean that he was either daft or simply had no knowledge of mushrooms and had been curious) or intention (which meant either that he knew some benefit she did not, or he was bent on harming himself)- she could not decide immediately. If he hadn't known about the impending effects of the mushroom, he would find out soon.

She'd found out what she'd needed to know when she'd heard the scuffling- it was a wolf with a mushroom- but a new question had been posed. Had he discovered the mushroom out of curiosity, or did he mean to find it? He didn't look like he'd enjoyed the smell or the taste, but she didn't think anyone would, even if they meant to bite it. She was quiet for a moment while he tried to get a drag of clean air, trying to think of how she could best phrase her question. In the end, she settled for the simplest possible one: "Y'alright?"

He seemed to recoil, eyes wavering, focus lost as he sought to find her. He seemed disturbed, like a sick animal who has been caught, backed into a corner- not frightened but defensive to the point of becoming mildly aggressive. Sage held her ground and watched him for any sign that might suggest an additional ailment- even though winter was not a time that disease tended to spread. Most of those who were ill died in the earlier months and those who survived certainly wouldn't look nearly as fit and healthy as this male. His vague gaze would have been sincerely hostile had he not inhaled the mushroom spores. She looked to the accusing item in question and noticed with some relief that he hadn't eaten too much of it. It was mangled, but bits and pieces were around his paws, evidence that he'd torn it while digging it out, but hadn't ingested too much.

His fur lifted and hers did in retaliation, though its effect was but a pittance; the girl was still dwarfed by the male who grimaced at her. She was warned and didn't take a step closer, but he hadn't told her to go away- he'd simply told her not to go any closer, to stay away. So she stayed where she was, watching the expression on his face turn to a blend of outrage and horror. She watched him carefully and spoke in a level, low voice.

"Sage." She said carefully. "My name is Sage. I've seen the effect mushrooms can have on other wolves before." She explained, and continued. "You didn't eat any, did you?" She asked. It didn't look like it, but how could she be sure there had only been the one? She felt awkward, explaining her experience; not that he'd be interested, or that she felt it gave her any right to help him. But walking away seemed too cold and she wanted him sorted out before she went to sleep for the night, especially if he stayed in the area. The last thing she wanted was for him to find her cornered in her den and decided that she looked like an orange that needed to be peeled or some other monstrous pseudomorph that he decided needed to be killed. No; she would set him straight, or she would have to traipse through the snow in the night searching for a new den, and she figured that this might be easier...

This was not turning out to be an average meeting. It wasn't quaint or polite or calm, but instead was turning out to be a disturbingly pseudoclassic case of 'meeting someone new in the worst possible moment.' She'd found him in an altered state and he was beginning to get frustrated, that she could tell. He didn't quite focus on her, and seemed bewildered, confused, and it seemed to be making him more aggressive. She didn't want him to come anywhere near her, for fear of having him lash out and try to hurt her. She didn't doubt that he both could and would kill her, while he was stoned, and she had a feeling that she would have to tread very lightly and watch his every move.

She didn't know much about mushrooms, but he hadn't eaten much of it. She nodded. The other wolf she'd mentioned before had wolfed down a good chunk of mushroom; it had nearly cost him his life, but he'd recovered, though there'd been something different about him following the incident. "You'll be alright," She said, with wavering conviction. Of course, she couldn't promise him that; it was just a suspicion she had and she felt bad saying something like that when she really didn't know if he would be alright.

She felt like a hunted animal when he began to circle her and she recoiled, flattening her ears and tucking her tail between her legs, moving away but making sure she kept facing him as he moved. He circled, head low, like a sick beast. She wondered now if he was this hostile when not under any influences, and decided that she would like to live to see the answer, though she wasn't particularly sure she really wanted to be in his company. "Sage," She said, repeating her name. "I'll be leaving now," She said, not answering his other question as she didn't have a response. She started backing up, trying to make her movements slow and careful- when she felt she'd put enough distance between them she figured she could dart away, but she didn't want to do that too soon.

As their footsteps fell in a eurhythmic pattern, one advancing in a wide arc and the other moving in reverse to keep the space between them even, Sage began to regret even speaking to him. She felt hunted now, though she hoped if it came down to a chase that she could outrun him while he was in an altered state. She watched his movements, waiting for any indication that the rugged brown and black wolf would spring into action, though no indication came. In fact, the opposite occurred; he stopped, blinking as though to clear away some invisible film from his vision, and seemed to relax.

Sage stayed put, posture still tense, not willing to trust him just yet. He said her name and the tone of his voice changed, as though the beast's cataracts had cleared both his vision and his understanding. This seemed to be a true observation as he confirmed now that he knew what was going on. It had not taken long, but he'd settled down a great deal and did not seem nearly as effected by the potent fungi anymore. She sniffed the air and watched him still, trying to read his facial expression and see if there was any hint of malice still left gleaming like embers in his gaze; but his eyes ere cold, silver, rational.

He sat down and had asked her a question about the effects of the mushroom. Apparently he couldn't see well, still- not that she could tell. He was looking at her, and his eyes didn't look clouded though there was something vague about his stare. She shook her head, and realized he might not see it. "No, I don't know." She said. "Might sleep it off," She said, though her proposal was simply a guess and her tone indicated that she really didn't have a sure answer for him.

He seemed to be in a stable mindset now, though she still couldn't exactly tell how well he could see. Not that it would mean much to her- if he wandered off and stumbled or did fine, it wouldn't have to matter to her, would it? She tried to convince herself of this as their conversation took a turn toward termination, and she shrugged off his apology, shaking her head and again forgetting that he might not see the gesture. One of her sharp shoulderblades raised in a shrug- it hadn't been much trouble for her, and she accepted the fact that she had been the one to go looking for him, he hadn't stumbled into her life, so the fault for meeting him at all was her own.

She almost supplied her name again when he told her his, but she remembered, shortly before she opened her mouth, that she'd already given him her name- twice. She doubted that he remembered it, not simply because of the state that he was in but because she figured that compared to the situation he'd just been in, she was fairly unremarkable. Her name was short and plain- though her full name had a bit more consistency to it, it'd been left unused- and therefore easily forgotten. His was short as well, though it was different. She didn't know anyone named Faol. Fa-ool. It sounded as though there were two syllables, though they ran together so seamlessly that it might have only been one.

He looked about a bit at the mention of sleeping it off which indicated to her that he either didn't know which way he was supposed to go, or he didn't have a den in any direction that he should go to. He thanked her and it seemed like a somewhat dismissive gesture, but she paused. "Do you....Have somewhere to go?"