Shadewood and fear is the most divine emotion

it would seem that he's not the only one with the idea of bedding down for the night in mind. wintersbane prides himself on his vigilance but it appears to escape him when he's in a single-minded focus as he is at the moment when something or someone collides with him. a yelp carries through their little circumference of shadewood and the birds roosting overhead scatter with complaining squawks and squalls. his ears plaster back against his skull and he swings his head around to focus his glacial gaze upon the woman that had, quite literally, slammed into him. he should've heard her footfalls upon the forest floor — it's covered with enough bracken that walking silently wasn't feasible lest they were extremely light upon their feet.

...but of course he wasn't willing to shoulder all the blame ...even though she has a good reason for not seeing him. he supposes he would be hard to see in the dark ( but he's never really thought about it because it's not like he can see himself or anything ).

she launches into a stuttering apology as he shifts his weight carefully and winces as soreness radiates from spot where they collided. it's tender but he's had worse. i guess that's understandable, he shrugs his broad shoulders in a 'don't worry about it' fashion as he studies her. she was a svelte, slyph of a thing painted in a pelage that appears to be the color of sands to him with pale green eyes. the shadows do tend to camouflage me.

you're not hurt are you? it's not often he's a gentleman — and he'd argue this isn't really him being a 'gentleman' per say but simply following through what what he knows are facts. he's thicc and running into him had to be kind of similar to running into a tree or a rock and it's generally common courtesy to inquire over someone's well being after they do something that cause them pain. which it could be argued that he's got selective manners ( and it's probably true ); but y'know he has his days.