So, so very cold

One of ol' Canavar's most majestic aspects was its depressing emptiness. The lands were vast and lush and almost ready to be conquered by wolfkind; yet no one except the handful fellows she'd met earlier seemed to realize what potential the land held. Jack wasn't sure what to think of that. She'd never been all too big on the pushy fuss of a pack community- that didn't mean she found the unending plains and mountains and cold skies any more welcoming, however. So after what could have been a story-worthy incident involving a few strangers and a human corpse, Jack had decided to set out to explore the landscapes some more.

And after royal hours of hiking through outrageously annoying, unnecessarily spiky undergrowth, it appeared that she'd finally stumbled upon paradise.

"Holy dirtstains," Jack mumbled as her eyes grew wider. Barely had she pushed another nasty thorny branch to the side or the glorious sight of steep cliffs diving down into silvery water revealed itself to her. "Now that's a spot I could call dibs on." Not that she wanted to start a pack here or whatever; though in an ideal world where things would be different and easier, a family would come close. But the way she thought she liked it wouldn't work anyway. More so because.. she wasn't the first. "Ain't that damn neat.. more forced socialization," she thought to herself, spotting a few cogeners down by the edge of the icy lake. "Still better than nothing."

It only took her a few hops to make it down from the green hill to the more stone and pebble-based shore, along which she walked till the scents of yet another batch of completely unknown wolves were stuck in her nose and she could listen in on their simple exchange.

Quick observation: one male, one female, at least one of them native to the area. Both of them were speaking in a dialect she thought she knew scarcely; the Woodlander's tongue, as her peers used to call it, one that she'd been taught by the old man and a friend they made during their travels. Jack was far from calling herself adept, though she was comfortable enough speaking it when there was no other option. After filling her lungs with a nice gulp of chilly fjord air, she decided to join in and show the strangers her ugly mug.

"Kijk 'ns aan, en daar dacht ik dat deze land verlaten was," grinned Jack. "Hoop dat ik jullie praatje daar niet verstoor?" Maybe she'd gotten a little rusty, but who could blame her? Even her time spend with the oldie had been mostly in the Plain's dialect, because it made it easier communicating with their clients and rivals. Once more she let her eyes run over the strangers, trying the best she could to detect anything noteworthy about them that might assist her in helping or defeating them.. depending on whatever happened next, of course.