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

Thanks? I think? Wren's eyes narrow, creases forming in between eyebrows. Confused, but not angry. An oddly friendly guy, this one, a bit jarring compared to the few she'd met thus far. She hadn't the energy to perform her typical dance with those she did not recognize the smell of, and so she perches herself on a log, stumbling momentarily as she finds her footing. She sits back on her haunches, nails digging into the bark in order to hold her balance. She looked tall from up here, almost larger than her suitor, and so she slouches in an attempt to hide it.

Hate to ask yah this, but, d'y'know where we are? Her head tilts to the left, exposing the cream-colored fur of her neck, ruffled and covered in a thin blanket of dirt. I'm not from here. Still learning.