Silvertip Mountain Traveling alone

There was a spark in his gut at the use of his true name, and the pale corsair squinted his gaze at her. For only a moment, Smokestep wondered if it had been wise to offer what he had offered no-one else. He did not imagine that there was much she could do with his moniker, but he did not wish to find out. Instead, he let it go with a quiet snort and a single ear splaying to the side. Rosalyn was coy, he noted mentally. The marauder liked that about the red-furred beauty.

She bid her leave and he waited, watching her depart until he could not see the fire of her pelt any longer. Only then did the ghostly figure turn toward the coast and set off in a steady trot, hoping to arrive with enough time to fetch Sandpiper. He knew his sister well and she had never been fond of other females, so he anticipated that she would fancy a heads up in regards to the newest offer he had made. All the while, his mind danced with thoughts of the feisty creature and her sharp tongue.