Emberflame Ridge sorry mr policeman, if i wanted to talk i woulda called a friend

His bid for shelter was received with a gracious dip of her muzzle. "It's a kind offer," she imparted at length, "and I appreciate it," a bland smile pulling at her gums. The rootless stray couldn't give Taggarik her troth or the guarantee of a vassal–not things to be given frivolously–but it was the fussing of a troubled conscience that ultimately gave the girl pause for thought. She was uncertain of Tachyon's interest in integrating with another group, and  she'd admittedly grown the tiniest bit fond of him, despite his vast squadron of bizarro idiosyncrasies and disgusting daily intake of moshpig. With him rigged to her hip, the biological draw towards companionship hardcoded in her blood was slaked –– for the moment, at least.

Disdainful of these feelings Lusca outwardly maintained her lukewarm regard for the guy and justified her hesitance as having a preference for traveling light. However, it said nothing for the struggles to come when snow piled in and rations diminished –– yet, these logical thoughts, as they frequently did, ran away with the spoon. Unless it was an immediate problem that inconvenienced her, Lusca was unlikely to get around to catching it again. 

Seating herself, her tail coiled 'round her flank. "What about it draws you?" she questioned with roused curiosity.