Sun Mote Copse i'd rather chase the Sun than wait for it.

A rather meek sound ricochets from off of the trees and into Wren's ears. A male, presumably. Ashen ears swivel forward and long, rawboned legs carry her through patches of ragweed. It was then when she'd found him, a stranger on his lonesome, not unlike her.

I promise you're not going crazy, one lip curls upward in the shape of an awkward, crooked smile, teeth shown, but not necessarily out of malice. She hops forward, curiosity seeming to take hold of her as she draws closer; tail high and stiff, movements jagged and clumsy. Unsure. Jesus, dude, you've got some... really green eyes.