Emberwood I don't mind the thorns

In attitude, she kind of reminded him of Lolita. Spunky. It warmed him even further to the girl, and his muzzle curved in a soft smile. Och, yer faither means weel, he replied, though gently enough to let her know he wasn't chiding her. I understand bein' restless, though. It's hard to be cooped up in one place.

He took in her dark appearance, her silver-ringed eyes. Yer faither's here, then? What's his name? Perhaps not one of Bhediya's children, then, seeing as if she was accompanied by at least one parent. Still, he remained on-edge, a sensation that would not fade until the girl gave a name.

And even then, it didn't answer every question.