Hoshor Plains a parlor glade

How perfect it was that she was familar with the lands. His eyes skimmed past her to where she had gestured, but the plateau had the advantage of being obscured. Not the mountains though, no, he could follow them in a resolute line that seemed to have no finite end. But just as readily, his gaze settled on her as she exchanged an introduction, and a thin smile unfurled on his features.

"You can call me Dirge," he seemingly hummed, his voice keeping a smooth timbre. Her name seemed to suit her, even if she was draped about with sterling silvers and charcoal. He couldn't say that about himself. "Any hidden little gems out there those deer might want? If you're willing to give them up that is, I don't have intentions of trying to steer them back over the river." It was too much work for just one wolf; he didn't expect charity from another with a more prime location to chase them from.

They chatted for a bit more before parting ways.