Haunted Wood no one likes a beggar slightly overdressed

So sorry for the delay... I can't really promise to be very fast because my brief summer break ended, lol.

 

Men who hit the road with a plan in mind were fools, in Cash’s humble opinion. The life of a loner didn’t lead at all to stringency or single-mindedness; one had to be agile and able to roll with the punches that were given. He blew the same way the wind did, dealing with issues as they sprung up. Food was one, water another, bunkering down in shelter through terrible weather and harsh cold was yet a third. If a person remained sold on just one solution, it made them that much more likely to fail and die in the process. He would never succumb to something so foolish. Cash was always willing to do what he needed to survive, sometimes while simultaneously (and somewhat hypocritically) engaging his youthful daredevil desires. His intentions to stay in Teekon, at least long enough to see what happened, were reflective of that.
 
It was an odd game that loners played, especially in times like these when resources were scarce. Tensions rose, and it was easy to pin blame and incite violence against those who didn’t have a pack to fall back to. Some defended themselves by intimidation: to be big and strong enough to deter those who might wish them harm, or implement some tactic to give some type of mental intimidation (such as this stranger’s bloodied face).
 
Cash didn’t employ such tactics. He’d never been one to pile on muscle; tall he may be, but the harsh leanness of his body was as much as he could manage bulk-wise. So he employed another tactic. He smiled broadly, joked amiably, tried to remind anyone he met of the best in people they knew. One typically wouldn’t attack another that they found endearing in some way. Cash didn’t necessarily have that issue—which was what made him dangerous when the chips were down.
 
Now this one. She seemed amused by him initially, but he watched a lot of that mirth evaporate from her features like pooled rainwater in the midday sun. He very carefully maintained his lopsided grin, easy attitude, but a part of him was watching, waiting. It was a game of chess strangers played when sizing one another up, and he always tried to be one move ahead.
 
One brow raises. It was common knowledge that such lengths would be gone to in a famine like this, but it was usually the thing that went unsaid. The boldness to place it on the table was oddly interesting. “Now that’s some dedication,” he replied with a rumble of a dry laugh. Would he kill in defense, for food? Sure. That’s just how the world worked. But in order to maintain his façade, as she did? He finds himself questioning the validity of it. But it’s not his place to judge, lowly loner as he is. “I’ll be sure to give you a wide berth, then, when you run dry of your supplies.” He smiles easily.
 
Headed? He seems to ponder it, though in truth he already knows the answer. “Can’t really say. I was headed west, to see the sea – so to say,” he seems proud of his small bit of wordplay. “It seems as though I was a bit unlucky with my choice of direction, though.”
 
He lifts his muzzle in her direction. “And yourself, miss?” She doesn’t bear a pack-scent, or at least not one he can discern. He’s wondering why other loners are as mad as he was to stick around in a time like this.