Otter Creek Why should you believe in magic,

viorel never had been terribly inclined to sentimentality. that was a safer thing to convince yourself of than its opposite, and not something their family had partaken of or deserved. the knowledge lingered on, if nothing else; they had always found themselves quite proud of their ability to adapt to what was required of them. it did rather ease the burden of having to learn a lesson once more.

the curiosity in her face was not quite mirrored in theirs; they loosed a low breath that smoked in the air, tongue curling up over their lips.

perhaps it was a flaw of theirs, how...unaccustomed they were to dealing with people who were not looking for a weakness to needle. they could not pretend they did not have plenty of those. their appearance, however, had long ago ceased to be one; they did not laugh, but they favored her with a little twitch of their head, as much agreement as they were ever comfortable enough to give. "no. but i have not found many of that opinion. you may be the first."

she had not been aggressive. and a thought lingered on their tongue. but they did not know how to shape any word that was friendly, viorel knew this from experience; they let the budding remark die there.

the wind had already begun to bite deep, sinking in where the snow melted around their ankles. "i'm afraid i cannot do much for your feet," viorel said, instead. "it is rather difficult to treat an injury when nothing grows. you will just have to rest." they did not doubt it would be difficult, without a pack; their paws did not feel much better than they imagined hers must have. "if you can manage, on your own."

for a moment -- just a moment -- viorel thought of theirs, left too many miles away to count. their lip curled, and they shook the thought away before it could take hold. not inclined to sentimentality, indeed.