Fox's Glade and I don't feel no remorse, and you can't see past my blinders

her gaze narrowed as he stared, wide-eyed, and her hackles shifted with irritation as she recognized the recognition in his eyes. to be recognized and yet not recognize in return bothered her greatly, and not even the noisy arrival of a pair of grey jays could shift her gaze away from the male, brow furrowing as she attempted to elicit some similar response yet coming up empty. 

the birds - brazen as they were - moved down to pick at the carcass as he finally made his explanation, though Cassiopeia was only made more wary by his hesitation. his next expression had her ears flick, for she did not understand and wondered briefly if this were some Moonspear wolf. his next comment, however, had her lips curl as soon as the words left his maw. to have some infuriating stranger call her beautiful crossed the line, and she leaned forward a fraction, gaze hardening.

she was stalled only by his next words, and she faltered, ears flicking in confusion and annoyance. "who are you?"  the question was half a query and half a demand, and she veered near simply leaving the male behind. and yet she was stilled, kept mostly by the vague recognition in her gaze that, infuriatingly, was unable to match the male's face with any of the shadowed memories of her youth.