Honeyed Pasture but I didn't really care

This stretch of water was welcomed. He found the winter was dry. His skin was dry. His mouth was dry. That's why he just walked to the pond, lapping up water with about as much elegance as he could manage. The man didn't acknowledge the woman yet; only that her pack scent was clear and she was from somewhere not in the Glen.

So a stranger. Did he have to be chummy? Not really. But he did lift his head, giving a curt nod to her. Appreciating she wasn't bombarding him. Why was he along the wilderness? Simple, he supposed. Finding more sprouts, digging them up and seeing if they'd fit into his garden. Unfortunately most coast-plants didn't grow in the Glen.

That's where he was headed anyway. To the Coast.