The Heartwood she doesn't know she's in love

she was softspoken-- at least in terance's opinion. he didn't like talking a lot. he was ungraceful and quite frankly bad at any sort of speaking, opting instead for smaller statements and more thought out comments. he felt they suited him better, felt more comfortable in his mouth. but he liked hearing her talk, she seemed to be comfortable with it, and her personality paired well with the small story that she told. terance decided he liked this fae, which was good, because it seemed like she was waiting for them. 

"you were part of the vale?" he asked, ears pricking-- duh, terance, she'd just said that. he wondered if he should tell her that rannoch too had been thrown into the ocean, but he wasn't sure if it was his place to tell that story... and maybe she already knew. "we're actually headed that way," he said, moving on from his dumb question, taking in her scent curiously. she didn't smell like other wolves, or maybe she didn't, but not overwhelmingly. did that mean? "is the pack gone?" he then asked, ears flicking towards her curiously. maybe that would alter their course, or something, he'd had to convene with rannoch again. 

her own scars had not gone unnoticed by terance, either, and he too had a similar opinion of them. he disliked them on himself, especially the newest batch which merely left an awkwardly shaped pull through his shoulder. but terance didn't think that about her own-- he couldn't help himself. "are those from the ocean?" he asked her with a tilt of his head, referring to her mention of washing up on shore wounded.