Big Salmon Lake Can I get a connection?

The name takes him aback--he's momentarily forgotten that he had given her the name, atop the peak. He hopes the surprise that flits over his face can be read as simple shock at her reappearance, and his eyes narrow at her response. "A lynx?" He is not familiar with the term, though he figures it must be some sort of predator, by the wound and the acrid smell lingering there.

Then she asks to make an inquiry--a weird inquiry, at that--and his ears fold slightly backward, wary. Though he had taken kindly to the woman before, they did not know each other all that well; he does not know whether he is up for the challenge of tackling whatever she has in store for him. Pray it be easy. Llewellyn lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders in reluctant acceptance.

"Certainly," he rumbles. "What is it?"