Wapun Meadow If I can see you filling with me

The pale wolf brushed her mistake aside so carelessly that Lucy wondered if he even cared that she had thought him to be another man. It was enough to ease some of her nervousness, but the dark shadow still watched him with a wary eye and stiff limbs. Should she need to, the young Blackthorn needed to know that she could escape, that he would not be able to lay a hand on her. The tip of her tail twitched apologetically and she glanced toward the west, where she aimed to travel, hoping for a chance to excuse herself from her own omission and move on.

The stranger inquired who it was that she thought he had been. A jittery, sort of hesitant expression fell onto her dark young features and she turned her gaze back to him. “I, uh... I thought you were a man called Skwol,” she answered softly. Then, sheepishly, she offered a halfhearted smile to the stranger and flattened her ears to her skull. “Your eyes are different, though. Not gold like his.” And all at once, she missed the twinkle of those golden optics and the kind rumble of her former companion's voice.