Ravensblood Forest Dancing Days

Whether he would come to recall her by name in the future did not matter to her more than one would expect. Recognition was established through the connections made with others, be them good or bad or questionable in turn. Her memory, however, would command she recall this male by his presence. The greys of his pelt and the somewhat distant look of his eyes. The disposition that foretold little beyond what he wished his words to say. Reserved, she would call him, and came to accept him as thus. Simply, she nodded, grateful for the shared courtesy through it was not demanded. "It is a pleasure," she offered in cordial reverence. And in truth, meeting another always offered a private sort of pleasure, one cherished by the female who had dwelt too long in the isolation of her prior home. "Are you perhaps leaving the forest?" she inquired, testing the air once more before continuing. "You do not smell of it. Passing through, then?"