Shadowwyn Moor Clair de Lune, L. 32

this guy, wren suddenly learned, liked to talk. here was this stranger, chatting her up with a happy little grin, cracking quips and making idle mention of his life with the trolls under the bridge. it seemed awfully unfitting for such a pleasant, casual-seeming fellow to belong to — them.
clearly, he didn't know, and wren was not about to be the one to tell him.
he says he is exploring now that the whelps are older and need his guidance less. she laughs awkwardly as if the sound had been expressed from her with a swift kick. yeah, um, i'm just out here looking for-- i dunno. i was bored, i guess.
bored was certainly a word for it.
he offers to help her hunt, and as if she could not feel any more guilty, she decides to politely shake her head no. it's okay, don't worry about it, her ears twitch shyly. i'll let you get back on your way, but, uhm, thanks for not runnin' away screamin' as soon as you saw me.
kvarsheim. kvarsheim. kvarsheim. be normal. be normal!
you ever need anything, my girlfriend and i live just up that way.