Blackfoot Forest Wishing I could go back

Grezig was definitely not the first person, who thought that Wraen's clock had some screws and gears missing. People, who were straight-forward, did not beat around the bush and who had a simple, but direct take on life, had hard time understanding the ways of young hunter's mind. She enjoyed word plays, wove the imaginary and seemingly impossible in the fabric of her reality, making it more colorful and full in her eyes. And occasionally she met people, who understood this extraordinary take on life not as a sign of madness, but something of a peculiarity. And, if Wraen was lucky, they joined in as well.

"Excellent," Wraen replied, looking straight in the depths of the forest, "I think it is big enough to host two of us." Unless either of their personalities were so big and magnificent that there was no room spacious enough for both of them. "Why do you want to know?" she replied with a question of her own, now looking at her companion. "It's very likely that we will never see each other again - so, why bother?"