Witch's Marsh at the center for holy wars

Well, at least she wasn't one of those dainty girls afraid of dirty things. Yes, he did just think "dirty things." Maybe getting back into this old pastime was good for him, after all. "Swamp monster?" he queried, then lifted the corners of his mouth into an easy smile. "Far from it, my dear." Even though Viggo probably couldn't go through with it, flirting was something that he was picking back up with ease. He had thought it would be more difficult than this, but it was like riding a bike... or whatever the wolf equivalent of that would be (hunting, maybe?).

"I'm Viggo Ostrega, a relative of Mordecai's, if you're familiar with him." It was not far-fetched to think that Mordecai might know some wolves in these parts. Mordecai had been here for quite some time, after all. Little did Viggo know that the girl was actually part of the same troupe as himself. However, the two of them were still far enough apart that their scents wouldn't travel that far. Especially not with the lack of wind.