When he didn’t immediately answer Kipling nearly mistook it as her catching him off guard, which she would have taken pride in but it was quickly diminished by a flair of amusement. She lifted her head and then shook it, rolling her eyes playfully, as though the answer was obvious. Well, I came didn’t I?
Never mind it had been quite a spur of the moment thing, he certainly didn’t know and wouldn’t. Instead she played it off as it had been her intent all along. And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t not wanted to come,
And it’s a very important name.
She insisted, half teasing and another half quite genuine. Sure, he’d caught her very much down on her luck that day by the lake, but when it wasn’t none of those days where she caught a terrible case of the mean reds, as a rule Kipling was quite the prideful creature. Despite this she was much too charmed by the idea that perhaps leaving her name a mystery would make her more perplexing, so she didn’t go the extra length of simply telling him, tenderly thrilled by the idea she could for a while be someone but herself out here on the edge of the Wilds. After all, that’s what she had wanted when they’d met: to be someone else, but in the end, she wasn’t always quite happy with herself.
But no, I guess that’s not all.
She continued, tapping her tail against the ground the same way a person might tap their finger against their chin in thought. I could stand to learn something new.