Deepwood Weald autré temps

At some point as expected, she had become aware of his presence. It had only been a hunch carried along, its truthful point confirmed as her voice called back to him through the reeds. He felt a smile come to his face with ease, by now closer to her than he had been over their short span—perhaps her steps had slowed after all, somewhere, and now in their halt had lured him in all along.

At least relatively unobscured now, he could admire the way faint color found its way into her pale coat and that too was obvious. The season had been favorable to her as it had him, within reason, and she bore the evidence lent to those who wandered... or doomed to it.

"Wouldn't you follow someone wandering close to your claim?" His head tilted inquistively; his eyes roamed over her shoulder to the point of her nose. "Or would you set teeth to their hide?"