Whatever had set the russet female against him, it seemed that Japheth's carefully established neutrality and sticking to what he knew to be true had diffused the situation. The yearling blinked in surprise at the loosening of her stance and her apology, which seemed sincere and was entirely unexpected. He listened in silence as was his wont, as she excused her behavior on account of a rough winter and scarce food, and introduced herself properly as Senka Flint, the sole hunter of the aforementioned Willow Ridge. "It's alright," he muttered awkwardly, being unaccustomed to apologies in general and feminine ones in specific.

Japheth found himself incapable of keeping up his own wary exterior, and so he relaxed by degrees, first easing back into a less-tense posture that said he was more willing to stick around than to spring away from an attack, then smoothing down the fur at the back of his neck, and lastly lifting his tail ever so slightly in a sway more of greeting than of guarding. Still, he was not immediately talkative or cheerful; he simply asked quietly, "Why are you the only hunter? Why should the burden of a bad winter be your fault? All members of your pack should be filling caches and tracking game." His lips curved in a frown, not for her specifically, but for the pack as a whole. Were they so poorly off that they had only one wolf who could do their hunting? That was hard to believe and surely they wouldn't have lasted through the colder weather with such an incapacitation. Japheth's logician mind cranked through the possible rationales for this in the mere moments it took for Senka to form her response. In any case, he was not too impressed with Willow Ridge already, if that was how things were.