King Elk Forest that is so not my motto.

She hadn't meant to growl at anyone...so did that mean there was something growlworthy here, by process of elimination? Owen was a bit worried about this, but given the blase attitude of the older girl before him he didn't want to seem too overly concerned. "Have no worries..." sheesh, if only. But he tried to imitate her and play it cool, though his shifty eyes might give the game away anyhow. Owen wasn't any great shakes at hiding his feelings.

He halfheartedlly summoned up a weak smile in return for the girl's own more-convincing one, however, more out of mildly concerned distraction than from a lack of feeling. Oh, uh, hi Poe, he said, his eyes drawn again to her strange white specklings. Where're you from, anyway? ...And wait. You're looking for...who now? Or where? His speculations about a bizarre galactic origin story for this girl were getting a little derailed by her muddy explanations of what she was doing here. Stardust—er, snow on her back, from birth, that is... that surely must signify something exotic and special. But did she come to greet all the earthlings in peace, or...not? Owen had to admit that if she was a magically-dusted alien she made a pretty convincing mimic of a young wolf, though. She even properly smelled the part: bravo. ...Thoug Owen did suspect, after a moment, that maybe her jauntily wagging tail and wide grin signified she was having a joke at his expense with this. Maybe it really was just snow, who knew. It didn't always all melt right away, after all; that much at least he had figured out.

Oh, uh, I'm Owen, by the way. He'd almost forgetten her other question, in his distraction. Owen...Redhawk-Voulge. I live up a ways northerer; don't worry, you're not trespassin'. Our lands're up thattaway, past some lakes 'n' stuff. Wait. Was "notherer" even a word? Yeah, there was no way he'd come off as cool and collected as he might've liked. Owen gave a little cough and cleared his throat in embarrassment, pretending for the moment to be very very interested in what the next little gust of the cold and fitful wind might have to show him and his gently snuffing nose.