Ouroboros Spine New beginnings

The yearling nodded, thinking that these were good things to pledge to their village but only time would tell if the words rang true. She had known many a man who could spin pretty words, wax poetry. Like flattery, it oft rolled off the herbalist's shoulders like raindrops sluicing off the feathers of a waterfowl. Her features remained polite and neutral, though she allowed a faint quirk of her lips lest she seem unfriendly, at his offer. She considered, as if she might actually be able to grant him a place amongst their tribe, spring gaze moving from Valerius' earthen pelt to the needles littering the forest floor. 

"You are a warrior, then? A guardian?" She asked and this was lighter, conversational as the timid mouse dared to curl cinnamon haunches beneath her neatly, tail curling close over her paws as she observed the man again with a quick, keen glance. He was strong, proud: standing perhaps half a foot taller than she and outweighing her by sixty-five pounds. They had @Adrastus (reference) to protect them but the artisan was certain they could use more fighters amongst their numbers though she was beginning to think this pack would soon be swamped with men.

The storyteller would keep the visitor preoccupied until someone showed up, which would give her a chance to get a read on this newcomer. He seemed amicable and genuine enough at the moment, though the wary girl knew all too well how people could put up a good front. Perhaps speaking with him might give her an inkling if he was one such wolf.