Hideaway Strath Rest my case

Securing a meal? Here? Laughable. The only critters he'd seen worthy of a meal were the insufferable red squirrels that took to the trees faster than any wolf he knew of. And there were the occasional buck and doe; though, they didn't wander this far into the hearth of the strath.
Marsali... her name. Curious. Not to mention a nosy, smart little thing — and not in the intelligent way.
Sentinel? The man laughed aloud, throat tickled by its dryness. The colder weather often left his lips cracked and tongue parched. I am not much of a sentinel, my dear. A combatant of age, perhaps. They were similar; yet in the same instance, they were not the same.
Your name, your name! The words burst through her eyes, but Fenrir had blatantly ignored them. What kind of fool would he be- to give his name away so quickly without the faintest idea of this stranger's intentions? Why, no! She must earn such the right!