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

Something about the girl made Kincaid feel several years younger than he really was — and not quite in the way he preferred. He got the sense that she was not quite a lady either, but he still felt clumsy and dog-footed before her, every bit the cad he'd claimed to be.

The conversation had rolled past his level of competency; she was too clever for him by half, and all he could offer in return was a charmed but rather contrite smile, and another gentle wag of his tail. That did seem like an invitation to look her up — and he would — but for reasons he still couldn't quite fathom, she was just as interested in carrying on the current conversation.

"Might be I am," he replied, coloring under his fur as she called him rambler, even though it was nothing but the simple truth. He hid his expression for a moment by turning his shoulder to her and inviting her along with a sweep of his nose. "Lucky me, I got a guide worth her salt t'show me around."

West was his chosen direction, further up into the foothills where the trees thinned into craggy slopes. "If we can find a place to look out at the valley, you can point out some landmarks for me," he suggested, resisting the urge to steal glances at his new and unexpected friend. She would've made an ideal partner to travel with, except that he was liable to fall for her if he wasn't very careful, and she had folk she already belonged to.