Bramblepoint countless

Yes. Her head bobbed in fellow confrontation before she carried on. At nine months old you choose a patron and that guides your role, your place. In her eyes it was a wonderful thing, regardless how others ever thought of it. She had thrived under her patron Urthemiel and she had plans to continue to do so. Especially now with dangers more present than ever.

Her staring had been busted it seemed, his question lingering in the air. The tapping of the tip of her tail against the earth gave away any excitement she tried to keep hidden. Maybe. Head tilting upward with her answer as she aimed to touch her nose against his cheek.