Emberflame Ridge Aftershock

"It is not a nickname," he said, amusement riddling his rasping baritone. "Warbone is a title. I earned it, a great honor among the wolves of my birthplace, and when I left, introducing myself as such had merely become habit by that point." His true name wasn't necessarily a secret, he just hardly ever found a reason or a want to speak it. 

He followed her gaze, heaving a great and contented sigh from somewhere deep inside his chest. "Yes, I was admiring its tranquility," he murmured in admittance, looking in the other direction and finding much of the same: sweeping, swaying trees, and a diluted tang on the air, salt of the ocean. "I believe the proximity is fair— an accent of the sea carries with the breezes, but it is not overpowering or distracting... I feel a fondness for it, now that I have mentioned it aloud," he finished pensively, thankful for her assertion of his novice thoughts, even if in the end she would not share its delectation with him. "Have you been here before, in your ventures?"