Emberwood I don't mind the thorns

Pygmalion listened to this speech with a patient expression, nodding intermittently. His father had been quite strict, keeping the youngsters under tight wraps—especially the ones he deemed most vulnerable. Which, funnily enough, had been the girls.

Lolita would understand this young lady's plight quite well, yes. . .

Ye'll have plenty o' time to get oot there, Pyg responded warmly, tagging along as she began to walk. But it's good Bhediya wants tae take ye scouting—she's my mate, and she's verra smart. Never mind his trepidation of Bhediya, not at all a bodyguard, accompanying the girl away from the Emberwood. That was beside the point. For now.

He cocked his head, glancing down at her. I'm Pygmalion, but ye can call me Pyg. What's yer name, lassie?