Verdant Basin Making my way back to old habbits... what a shock.

Addison relates quite strongly to the way the man gulps down the water, as if he's never tasted anything like it before. There is nothing quite like the feeling of slaking one's thirst, especially from a lake so clear and crisp as this. She is standing somewhat off to the side, having watched his approach. She lowers her own muzzle, taking a long draw from the surface.

Oh. Oh. It is good, even better than she expected. The coolness sliding down her throat sends something primal and yet comforting through her body. She drinks like a woman possessed, only lifting her head a minute later to take a gasp for air, water dripping haphazardly from her muzzle.

The noise must draw his attention; the jig is up. She attempts to meet his gaze, blinking slowly, drawing her tongue along her lips. Hello, she greets, voice carrying the short distance from where she stood to his location. She stands straight again and begins to pad toward him, hips swinging, chin lifted higher than she is accustomed to carrying it, addressing a man.

The witches had shown her that men, while meant to be worshipped, were not meant to be feared. And she would fear them no longer.

I have not seen your face here before, Addison continues, coming to a halt a few paces away. Who are you?