Barrow Fields what once was mine

The voice was not at all familiar to Moorhen; it had been too many years and the other male too small a part of her past. Even so, she wheeled back on her hind legs to spin toward the sound with a little leap and a bark of her own, inviting company without a hint of perplexion. It did not surprise her to have attracted attention, and she was prepared to meet the man with whatever energy he brought with him.

Not one to play coy, Moor trotted forward with her tail whisking in idle interest. The stranger grew less and less strange as she approached, but it was only when she'd drawn close enough to smell him that her features changed, dark brows furrowing in question. Long legs carried her closer still, but her tail had gone high and straight with wariness as she struggled to place familiar scent and features.

"Ironclan," she said at last when she stood before him, looking a little more settled but still uncertain. "Ja?" she asked him, hoping to receive confirmation.