Hushed Willows “my temper would perhaps be called resentful.”

Sont nodded at her admittance, his lips curving at her words. For now, he would take respite; but he wasn't against settling here, in time, if a time such as that should ever come. He wondered how he may contriubte, exactly, aside from hunting, and kindness, of course. The minister may have a guise of haughtiness, an a bearing of distance, but amiability... it wasn't so foreign to him.

In his slew of many opinions, nobody should be shamed for wanting security over savagery. All the same, though, how do you pick up the threads of an old life? You fumble with them, and they get tangled; you have no choice but to begin anew, even if it means leaving what's become 'home
behind. 

"A tour would be welcome," he smiled, coming nearer and looking between her and the silvered Olive. "I would be remiss, though, if you over-exerted yourselves at my expense. I do appreciate it, regardless." The thick plume of his tail wavered at his burnished hocks, eager to begin, but at as much of a relaxed pace as they wanted to go at.