Ouroboros Spine v. two feet standing on a principle

Her snow-whettened lashes flutter damply in a momentary flicker of surprise. Again, she finds herself vaguely baffled by his demeanor. Mayhaps her first guess was closer to the truth -- maybe he was merely stalwart, staunch over the claim of Moonglow. To the cause of the grieving duck and her daughter. His roundabout shift in attitude gives her pause, if but for a moment, not expecting his agreement nor appreciation -- even if it shows only in the glint of his honeyed orb, the other coffee-dark and better at hiding its secrets. 

Nonetheless, Aiwëndil responds by lowering her head in a solemn nod -- shouldering the role he offers without argument, murmuring a soft thanks for his ready acceptance of her aide. At his query, the tip of her fawn tail twitched in a nervous tic -- holding her words close to her chest for a moment as she pondered whether this was safe to share. "The Land of Many Elms," came the muted utterance after a moment, knowing that he would not understand the title in her mother's tongue. "Men hunt there. But women might be callers and trackers, if they have the inclination."