The Tangle Hands to your hymnals, hell's at the door

It all sounded rather complicated, and Rosalyn was glad she wasn't likely to need to repeat his name anytime soon.  Boy would be preferred to all that.  He spoke as if what he said was universal and she wondered idly if this pack he spoke of were the same.  If not he may have some realizations on the horizon.

Unfortunately, for better or for worse.  She replied drily, amused by the pity in his tone.  She couldn't resist a slight push back upon it, though, a subtle barb.  I suppose, where I'm from, a name has only as much meaning as you bring it.  True, no one had handed her a title and signified her an adult.  Her mother had handed her a different sort of future - and it had been no less significant.

They were nearing the edge, and the way was fairly straightforward now.  She needed to get back before the sun faded, and as thrilling as this was, she feared if she truly got him going on a subject she might never get free.  She slowed to a stop, then indicated the direction.  Nearly due south you'll find mountains.  I don't know about birds, but it's the best I know.  Surely a warrior like him could manage.

WC: 210