Ravensblood Forest red right hand

"how unfortunate," she casually laments, clearly none too bothered despite her language.  the bloody sap now shelved for a later time, she refocuses her full attention to renard.  she doesn't yet realize it consciously, but she knows this wolf -- not personally, not really, but from stories praimfaya told her.  although it's an excruciatingly slow process, the pieces are beginning to come together.

"what is your area of expertise, if i may ask?" before she can stop herself, the question is posed.  clarity finds her shortly thereafter, and she chuckles, realizing her fault.  what reason would this wolf have in sharing such an intimate detail with a stranger?  her mother would balk at her lack of social graces. "i suppose my name would be suitable collateral for that information.  i am natshana." even if they do not accept the trade, she doesn't mind giving it.  she has come to realize it is unavoidable, and she has no desire for pseudonyms these days.  her eyes have settled on them again as if her subconscious is trying to jog her memory.  a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon plagues her.

"it's strange, but there is something familiar about you that is difficult to explain."