Wapun Meadow I'm a believer; don't call us another name

She felt eyes on her. Lestan? she thought, but when she stopped and turned, it was a stranger watching her. Reverie flushed, embarrassed; she wished it was Lestan! Instead it was only this man, tall and silvered with snow, older than her by years, missing a leg —
Missing a leg! By the Mother! Had she ever seen so grievous a wound on a wolf? It was old, healed, but the sight of it was terrible. She remembered her manners, though, and only glanced over it briefly. Then she offered a nervous smile and tried only to note the features of his face. Another scar. Oh! Was this man dangerous? Hello, She couldn't quite fight the sudden urge to explain herself. I thought I was alone - it just seemed like such a perfect place to dance - I - ah. I'm Reverie.