Sara felt the hairs on her neck and shoulders bristle as firey eyes fell on her, the male was large, much larger than she, and her body tensed, her brain manically trying to figure out wether to run or fight, or wether he was even a threat in the first place. She cocked her head to one side quizzically as he showed submissive behaviour, lowering his crown and taking a hasty step back. What had she done? How was it that everyone seemed to hate her? It wasn't fair and her inner resentment boiled over into a surprisingly fierce growl. She immediately covered her fangs, realising she'd been too quick to snap and it wasn't his fault really, perhaps the poor soul hadn't his right mind, as he seemed unable to speak to her. She smiled sympathetically, remembering a boy from her home-land who was soft in the head and spoke his own imaginary language. He was completely harmless, but the other cubs, cruel as children are, would taunt him and exclude him from their silly games.

But soon he proved he wasn't stupid, just from another land, a hot one she presumed, for the length of his pelt, as he repeated back to her with an exotic accent, 'Hello'. She knew she ought to use clearer language with him, but it was hard not to chatter away in slang as she always would back home, up North were the snow fell thick, the summers were short, as were the days, and the wolves were barbaric and hostile.

She analysed him silently, her cold stare unwavering, her small ivory body rigid, tail lashing slowly from side to side, inspecting her newest toy with dark, judging eyes, one of which glittered mischievously with the mark she had been outcast for. She sometimes wondered why her maman didn't just gouge her eyeball out and be done with it, but instead she had to bear this burden, and hear whispers that she was a 'wicca girl' until she was sacrificed to the beast, her worst nightmare and her first kill.

"Your name is Cozcotl." She stated, loving the sound of the word, so unique. "Mine is S- actually, know what, mine is none o' yours."
Why would she tell him her name? That information was strictly on a need-to-know basis and he didnt need to know, at least, not until she felt she could trust him.

She pawed at the marshy ground and curled her lip in disgust, she really needed to clean her pelt, stained as it was with blood, grass-stains and general dirt. Besides, she could do with a drink.
"Water?" she tried, hoping he'd understand.

OOC-bit rusty, I know. It'll get better :)