Bramblepoint point to the hills

He spoke like nothing she had heard before, his cadence folksy, almost lackadaisical. His words were suffused with good humor, such a contrast to her tone, which came off acrid, at times sullen. Despite herself, she found she smiled more often than not in his presence--it had been a while since she had smiled, truly.

"Sawyer." She rolled the name over her tongue. "Nice to meet you."

The pair, gold and grey-brown, sat watching the rain side by side, water streaming through their pelts. Nashoba enjoyed the small moment of silence between them, continuing to watch the storm clouds as they rolled past. Then she looked over again, asking a question that surfaced suddenly. "Where are you from?"