Blackfoot Forest when night fell she placed hand upon breast; prayed for weeping days of rain

The former priestess absently notes the male's arrival, an ear flicking toward him, but she does not turn to greet him fully until he speaks. "It could be," she agrees smoothly, "though the snow is a hindrance." With a sigh she drags her paw through the layer stubbornly coating the ground, revealing nothing but dead dirt underneath. 

After a moment she places the familiar smell clinging to the man's fur as the Valley. She hadn't considered Xan might have other members (or truthfully hadn't cared enough to consider). Her gaze flickers to him again, re-evaluating. "You may call me Poet," she introduces, offering a slight cant of the head, "are you a member of Xan's Valley?"