Otter Creek when you close your eyes

Zireael's head lifted at the sound of lapping nearby. Dark ash colored hackles bristled with his unease, a single silver eye studying the pallid figure in the short distance, deciding that if he minded his own business then she might, perhaps, leave him alone. Her scent wafted his way on the soft breeze, telling him that she belonged to the pack on the opposite side of the creek. Still, the creek was big enough for the two of them and he had no quarrel with her. He was inherently suspicious, but curiosity and his right to be there just as much as she kept the swallow rooted to his spot. He continued to lap at the water, not entirely ignoring her presence but not truly acknowledging it, either. She gave him no choice, however, but to acknowledge her when she broke the silence that wrapped around them and spoke; and since he was the only creature around besides herself Zireael was left to assume that it was he she was speaking to.

His own head lifted then, Tutor's teachings ingrained far too deeply, seared into the swallow's makeup to ignore her attempts to socialize with him. He fixed the pallid woman — probably around his own age, if he had to guess — in his silver gaze. Her question was spoken in the common tongue — a dialect that Tutor had taught him to be fluent in, the Elder language was likely not spoken around these parts but still Zireael found old habits hard to break: he could not recall the last time he'd actually spoken the common tongue. “neén” Zireael spoke, taking the liberty to study her. She had one ethereal blue colored iris while the other eye was marred by scars and was a milky color, and a trail of what the swallow assumed to be blood trailing down the side of her muzzle from her wounds. He did not smell blood, poignant as it was but perhaps it was old and he did not give much further thought to it.

He waited for a few more seconds before he offered in the elegantly accented tones, “No,” reaching out to her and responding in the tongue she had addressed him in. “I have only been in these Wilds for a few hours.” Zireael admitted. There was no harm in offering her knowledge that he thought was obvious in and of itself. “What of you?” He returned the courtesy in turn.