Gyrfalcon's Keep memoryhouse

velen did not miss the note in her voice, but nor was he peturbed by it. the antics of his kith were often beyond the understanding of anyone not part of their clan; he could hardly fault her for scoffing at his foolishness. "i do," the boy answered, tongue flicking to lick the flecks of blood that had splashed along his jaws, "because when i come back for their eggs, they will remember me."
falcon eggs were a delicacy; a wolf willing to climb and snap despite the lash of their talons was not one easily forgotten. velen's eyes roved quickly over the earthen colours comprising her pelt — perhaps she was as loamy as she seemed. "i'm velen," he offered gently, accompanying the introduction with a wave of his plume. she had not driven off his good nature, not yet, despite the flatness of her own.