Shadowwyn Moor you had your maps drawn

Even beneath the wind-whistling he heard the breathy noise meant to draw his attention. Rickon's head turned in a breakneck fashion, lusterless eyes finding the golden she-wolf half buried in wooded shadow, peering at him intently. He felt like a cloud of mist beneath her gaze— she was looking right through him— and even confirmed as such by her words. Or maybe he wasn't being as discreet as he'd thought about his feelings. The coarse brush of her tone made him cringe, ears falling as embarrassment began to color his blackened features.

His gaze dropped. "I look that bad?" he murmured, seeming to speak more to himself than the stranger. Though he felt his friend's absence, he wasn't aware that it had affected him physically. He looked up again, feeling at odds with himself (and therefore quite rude to present company), so he cleared his throat, and took a tentative step in her direction. "I-I'm okay," he told her, the crack in his voice making his proclamation quite unconvincing, but his always-genuine smile came quick to follow.

"What's your name?" he asked, in a quiet attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere.