Silverlight Terrace what do you want from me?

the voice had her stiffen, head pulled back first to catch the speaker in her gaze. scarred, pale, and with a smattering of dak spots across his face; somehow he brings a prickle of recognition. her muzzle inclines a fraction in greeting and small gratitude. his words are more pressing than his appearance, however, and she pauses in her step and turns to face the stranger. the girl is running; it is enough for her hackles to prickle at her spin and her lips the tense, ready to pull back at a moment's notice. "what do you want?" the male's warning is likely all that stopped her from meeting the running girl with fangs and ire, but without the shock that she'd deliver unannounced Cassiopeia merely bristled as the girl succeeded in closeing the distance. a part of her brain still works to try and identify the freckled face and pin a name to it; one that lurks just out of reach.