Cricket Creek Bog If you could fly then you’d feel south

I’m new here. She says and he’s cocking his massive head to her. “Me as well. Though only to these parts.” He hums back easily. 

So as she introduces herself he smiles then, a gleam of nice, white teeth that sparkle. Does she know how much blood he’s spilt with them? No, she doesn’t. I wonders if she’d be afraid of him if she did. 

Yet he decides to introduce himself then. “Kynareth Deagon of the Abbey, alpha of the Saints.” Then he shifts his weight absentmindedly. “What’re you doing near here? Looking for someone? Wandering? Searching?” He asks casually — conversationally. Uncaring if she finds it too prodding.