Dragoncrest Cliffs Difficult and dance round this one

@Portia

Hux has dabbled in many naturalist specialties, but he can never decide upon his favorite, the one with which his skills are best matched. His least favorite, he knows, his botany; plants are, of course, to be respected and to be used responsibly. They simply hold little interest with him. He loves the earth and its stones, and he loves the stars. This, however is the only thing he is certain of. 

upon joining Thuringwethil  in drageda, she instructed him to seek out Portia , and so he ambles through the foliage, his pale nose scenting the air for any feminine aroma. From there, he thinks he can begin to find the woman he is searching for. Until then, he merely wanders.

well, whoops! portia seemed to have little interest in anything except for plants. sure, she was plenty knowledgable about to world around them, but the speckled fisa had devoted her entire life to plants. the stranger who sought her out was in for a small surprise. 

lucky for them, however, it was easiest to find portia by wandering. she herself spent every moment she could doing it-- for it was the best way to come across new herbs. she had a daily trek, of course, but after she'd checked up on her usual spots she'd roam free of the territory-- something new was bound to come up. today, she came across a boy who she at mistook for arlo until she saw the gray of his eyes. she paused, a bundle of marigold held gently in her jaws, and let out a soft chuff-- waiting patiently to be noticed.

Hux hears a light chuff and turns to face the one who had sounded it. Iron eyes widened, for he had not expected Portia to be a young woman of such beauty, or uniqueness. Her white fur is speckled and spotted, a color combination he has yet to have seen, along with vibrant green jewels for eyes. Between her jaws she carries a bundle of marigolds, useful plants, he knows. This is how he identifies her as the she-wolf he seeks, but he feels it would be rude not to ask and make sure.

Are... are you Portia, miss? he asks in his soft way. His tail, lowered out of respect, swishes gently at his heels.

the wolf, as soon as he whipped around fully into view, is most certainly not arlo-- though she'd already established that. arlo held himself with much more pride and purpose, something about this male did not quite beg that assumption. but portia, sweet and filled with southern hospitality, dipped her head anyway. "i am indeed," she woofed, her own tail remembering the special rank heda had bestowed upon her (though it didn't quite mean that much to her) and raising to wag a bit higher up. "and who might you be, sugar?" she asked in return, green eyes glowing.