Herbalists' Cache young punks, get off my lawn

He met her muttering with a blink, mostly because he hadn't really heard her properly and only assumed the words hadn't actually been meant for him. The next time she spoke, Tambourine could make out her words much more clearly. He liked the sound of her name and smiled accordingly, the expression freezing a little at her persistently cranky tone.

"Right back there," he said, turning his head to motion to the mountains behind him. "It's called Marauder's Keep. Where do you live?" Maybe she would warm up to him the more they talked, though if she didn't seem particularly keen on a conversation, Tambourine would take the hint and excuse himself.