Silver Moraine before whom I stand

God, she was an enigma. A messenger, she had said. For who or what, he did not know. He found himself captivated by each honey-toned word that dripped from her lips, staring into her golden eyes. She had the look of a fox, or coywolf, yet he did not inquire into her heritage. He knew he would bristle upon anyone doing so to his own muddied bloodline.

He tilted his head to look at her in inquiry, blue eyes into gold. "Do you mind if I walk with you for a while?" She was absolutely free to tell him to get the hell out of here, but he hoped she didn't. He wanted to get to know this strange woman better.