Lost Creek Hollow the kingsroad

"Ocra," he repeats very fondly (despite the fact that his writer detests the taste and texture of the similarly-named "okra") and wags his tail invitingly. He never meant anything to be anything but a friend to whoever he met, but that didn't mean he'd succeed every time. But all had not been lost between them, it would seem, and Rickon was a fellow more than willing to amend and forge a relationship if ever possible.

She picked the way they would go, and he trotted close at her side, though put a comfortable distance between them so that she might be less inclined to display a continued nervousness about him. "I'm brand new to these parts, m'self. Wha'dabout you, pretty lady?" he asked the green-eyed girl, reverting to his typical southern charm despite the fact he knew she was more likely to be put off by it than welcomed. A fact he acknowledged to himself and decided it still wouldn't change who he was.