Big Salmon Lake Can I get a connection?

"Don't pick any more fights with cats," he says censoriously, without preamble. He shoots her a jaundiced look, eyes raking over the freshly applied cobwebs. "I may be able to bandage you up, but I'm not the best at it. And I certainly don't want to get into the habit."

Behind his gruff tone is, of course, genuine concern for her well-being. Llewellyn has always struggled with showing that kind of softness toward others; he has to coat it in a lecture before doling it out, and he's learned the rough way that many do not appreciate words of advice to come with thorns, not honey. Nevertheless, she is not a stupid girl--he hopes she catches his true meaning, and takes the concern to heart.

He flicks an ear, snorting softly as he casts aside those rambling thoughts. "Are you still on your own?" he inquires, voice losing the thunder from before. "Have you found a place to settle for the winter, yet?" He has seen the leaves on the lowland trees beginning to change; it is not long, now, before the ice comes.