Emberwood I got years of livin' by and how I choose

This made sense to Kincaid, who had often been the source of similar unrest in late winter. He accepted her words easily, having no reason to believe the shewolf would lie about such a thing. At her jest, however, he could not help but quip back, "I'm a lover," with a gentle twinkle in his narrow, bettle-black eyes. "And a gentleman in every way — although I s'pose sayin' so already makes me a cad."

By his tone, it could be gleaned that he did not mind at all being known as a cad.

Conversation turned to travel and homelands, and Kincaid was just as happy to discuss these things as he was to flirt. He sensed in Eleuthera a kindred spirit, even though she was a good deal younger and a great deal more charming than himself. "I ain't too sure, yet," he easily admitted, looking back toward Easthollow and the other valley packs. What he needed was to either join a pack, or replace Nine Lives — and neither were comfortable endeavors. "I was travelin' with my brother," he said, and it sounded like he might expound on that but like Eleuthera, something stopped the words in his throat. ". . . but I ain't with him anymore," he said lamely, squinting up at the position of the moon for a moment, as if this was of some interest to him.

"So," he sighed when he'd exorcised the frog from his throat, "I'm seein' what things is about down here. Maybe I'll stay, or maybe I'll move on."

His mood had dipped considerably, but he tried to pull himself up by his bootstraps even as he berated himself for spilling his sentimental soul on the poor girl. "'haps I'll come call on you, sometime," he said, and was bouyed by the idea of seeing the girl again. "And if you ain't too busy you could show me around."