Moonspear you can only remember what you want to forget

Olive listened to the man’s story intently, as brief as it was, with ever attention trained on him. Meanwhile, the druid lead him to her secret garden but he mind was musing other ideas. He moved around a lot, and even had left the wilds entirely? Considering that the wilds was quite expansive, she considered the man beside her to be quite some traveller, as she had once been! Perhaps wanderlust was a character train that she would rediscover, but for now it lay latent and only manifested itself as short bursts from the confines of Moonspear — but she always returned. Her family bound her to one spot, for in the pursuit of her family or her passions, family always won out. 

So, yes, this adventurous man was enticing indeed,

Then, ah — there was the question! Olive knew it would come up eventually — the past was not something that was so easily forgotten, as Tryphon had proven with his own personal retelling. Olive bit her lip and eyes swept to the ground in front of her paws once more, wondering the best way to reply. But lying was to dishonor the gods — so she would not. “Oh, me?” she replied kittenishly, biding her several more seconds to think. “I was born far from these wilds. I traveled too… We were a small family, never stayed in one place for too long. It’s quite a way to live! Never thought I would stop, but… cubs will do that you, I suppose.” Olive looked at him with a mischievous twist of the lips. No mention of Teaghlaigh, Dakarai, Sirius or  Blackfeather Woods. Perfect.

“Where did you go, when you left?” she inquired softly, as if it were a secret. It would not be much longer before the path dropped them off at her macédoine little farm.

“What did you see?”