Blackfeather Woods don't trust people you meet

that fathomless hole where an eye ought to be gave astara keen dread. she stared at it fearfully, her little lips lifted and sharp milk-white teeth tensely revealed.

a measure of self-defense more than outright aggression, for the girl knew not the nature behind missing such an object of import; to her, it suggested something malign and defunct -- she lacked the life experience to know that these things were often inflicted by malign and defunct creatures, and not a mark-in-of-itself of the victim's demeanor.

gracefully, as if understanding her trepidation, the man canted his disfigured muzzle away. it was enough of a gesture that astara's rumblings were silenced, and she looked upon him warily as if cornered.

after a few seconds of internal battle the girl took a step forward, the toy forgotten. she extended her muzzle towards him, hair on end as she sampled the wild scents that still clung tight to his body.