Concentration was the key, and Reian focused on her breath and holding her body still as dark violet eyes watched just below the surface of the water. While winter was well on it's way, she had no trouble choosing a fishing spot that suited her fancy. Life away from Moladian meant life as a loner, and life as a loner meant having to learn how to survive on ones own. She had always been fast and light on her feet, but raw strength was something that she lacked, and though her prowess as a hunter had served her well, one lone wolf could only do so much. Thus, fishing became a particular activity that she had learned from her Father and gone on to master herself. Thoughts of Sen always brought sad and happy memories to the once forest dwelling wolf, but in the midst of her concentration she didn't have time to start daydreaming.

However, it isn't her own thoughts that pull her away from the task at hand. A cream ear twitches at the sound of a voice- several voices, in fact, but Reian is a wolf not easily disgruntled. Beside, with several fat trout already beside her, she knew she had more than enough for herself and then some. Her fishing trip had been successful and maybe it had even led her to something else, something more. Perhaps some social interaction could be a positive thing; she'd been sticking to herself for so long since the death of her Father that it was quite a relief to hear another living and speaking creature.

Gracefully reaching down to grasp her fat catch within her feminine jaws, her lithe paws are quick to carry her along the bank and toward where she thought she had heard the others. It doesn't take her long to spy them resting against a tree, away from the breeze that follows the course of the river, but there’s only one wolf. She knew she had heard several voices And the fact might have been enough to give another pause but confidence and lack of socialization drives her forward. The wolf looks approachable enough, and though he is dark where she is light, and young where she is old, none of it makes any difference to her. It was time to stop living the life of a hermit and do something about her existence.

Only after stopping at a more than comfortable distance does she lower her skull to drop her catch at her paws. Once upon a time Moladian homed wolves that one wouldn't want to get close to, and though she oft gave others the benefit of the doubt, a lone wolf could never truly be too careful. When she goes to speak, an almost visible puff of dry air escapes her maw and her eyes widen in surprise. Apparently the lack of using ones voice can really do something after all, and after a gentle clearing of her throat she gives it another go. "Greetings, stranger. I seem to have caught myself more fish than I need, and I'm happy to share."

Simple and easy, dark violet irises with their gradient to almost black in the center watch him with the same easy demeanor that she spoke with. Though her throat was a bit parched from lack of use, and her tones perhaps a bit more quiet than normal, it all came back to her easily. Though she hadn't seen her family in years and years, she still thought of herself as their protector. And much the same, it had always extended so that she would remain a protector to those around her; pack wolves, lone wolves, and strangers alike. “I'm Reian."