Firefly Glen watch the flames burn auburn on the mountainside

The sudden turn in mood caught the girl off guard, in fact everything this stranger did was unusual and puzzling. Tilor. What did that mean? Her bewilderment was not shielded with her head cocked and brow furrowed. To be bowed to forced her gaze to search amongst the forest as if it held some answer to his actions, but found nothing. She lowered her head to be level with his own, shaking in dismissal, ”Please, I don’t deserve to be bowed to,” Mara insisted, herding his head with her muzzle to lift back up. 

So much about this wolf was striking - his golden glow, swoon-forcing voice, and posh formality was endearing. There was no way she could dwell on such romantic ideas though, for she still planned to die and he was likely just an emotional wreck. His words were nonesense in this state of woe, and held no genuine meaning.

”I’m Mara,” She answered, ”Who are you?” Amber eyes danced across the kingly form, picking up his scrapes and wounds. ”You’re hurt - let me help you,” She insisted, ears pulled back and confusion still present as her expression.