Heron Lake Plateau It was too cold to cry when I woke up alone,

They stood gawking at one another for a little bit, and then Screech finally blurted, uh, so, you come here often? Which sounded totally stupid after-the-fact and he mentally kicked himself for such a stupid response. He got a little closer and sniffed the air, slipping around her deftly as he inspected her with all the tact a wolf might typically showcase; this behavior was pretty normal among wolves. He wanted to know a little more about where she'd been and who she was, why she was here, and he'd messed up on his initial comment — so a round of sniffing was the next best thing.

It was during this inspection that he noticed the dark line down her back; it didn't register immediately as a Blackthorn thing even if it should've. The boy was dense as fuck. He was more taken by the brilliance of her fur, the way the sun caught in the golden tones, and he was almost too transfixed to listen for a response — whether she gave one or not he would mumble, You're so orange. Not in like, a bad way — shit shit shit shit shit he really didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he probably sounded like a creep or an idiot or a mixture of both, —I mean, I've never seen anyone like you before! shiiiiiit.