Silvertip Mountain Ring any bells?

Rolled to see what, if anything, Day-day will infer from her words and scent. I made a mistake in that post, but I'm going with the first option.

He hummed appreciatively at her words, not surprised that she'd found herself a mate. He'd not been unaware of her appeal, but had been reluctant to attempt to start any sort of relationship with a woman so clearly unhinged. Apparently, someone else hadn't been so exacting in thier choice of a mate - or perhaps she'd simply gotten better in the months since their meeting. She certainly smelled healthier, and happier, too. And what was that in her fur? A scent he knew, though not very well.

"Doe Cairn, huh?" he chuckled, surprised by this new revelation. "And the lucky mister wouldn't happen to be a Szymon Cairn, would he?"

For it was surely the pallid youth's scent that hung most heavily in her fur. He'd never gotten the surname of the pelt-hunter, but Doe reeked of him. It seemed most likely that he was the one she spoke of. And apparently this was the lad's 'Chosen One' - the one that he'd gifted a fawn's pelt, and that had apparently been sufficiently impressed to have chosen the boy in turn. He wondered if the kid had taken his other advice about women.

Cocking his head, he tried to decide if little Doe looked a bit bigger than she should be.