The Heartwood things lost to the flames

sorry this one's shitty

She said nothing at his words and perhaps it was for the best; the description was not just of the Heartwood but of home.  Instead, she remarks on his ability to fish.  And disappears in her own memories.  He gives her the attention he can manage, nodding when appropriate.

And he watches her watch the fish, surprised when she strikes her head into the water, appearing once more with a fish of her own she tosses at his feet.  He had never liked this method much, he did not like the way the water clogged his nostrils, but it seemed to work for her.

He finally sits, wrapping his silky, long-furred tail around himself as she inquires to his whereabouts.  It's a long story, but one he might be willing to provide if she so chose to pry. Inland.  Mountains.  What about you?