Blackfeather Woods the road ahead feels lonely

Is it company you desire?
The gesture caught Zaahira off guard, but she didn't struggle against it, the initial rigidity falling to relaxation once she became more comfortable with the contact and the press of his foreleg against her chest. She falls over to her side after a few beats of silence, back pressed against his stomach. She herself was rather unremarkable in size, and even just as she looked at his paw, giant and menacing and nearly the size of her head, the realization of his prowess hit her. 
She made a mental note to stay on his good side. She did not want to know what it felt like to have that paw pressed against her windpipe.
Zaahira's head turns, shifting slightly to where she could rest her chin on the ground comfortably. Up close, even in the dim haze of sundown, she could make out the intricacies of his features. Stress wrinkles, pepperings of gray across his chin that likely came with age. Small scars, possibly from hunts or past skirmishes, some more fresh than others. He tells wordless stories, and she took great care in reading them. 
Zaahira, she chuffs out amidst the quiet. Broken and hoarse, foreign was her own name as it slid off her tongue. you?