Two Rivers Isle stark, hollow town, carson city lights

He'd spent a good while standing there with a tap to his foot before a rustle in the brush was heard and a small woman appears, a puff to her chest. The sight of her brings an instant polite grin to his face, stretching up to dimple the corners of his eyes. 
Two Rivers Isle, she says. A nice enough ring to it. 
Oh, pardon me, ma'am, his accent is strong, gruff; and, uh, pardon my appearance. Hope I didn't startle you none. Sheepishly, he lowers his head, shuffling in order to create space between him and the arbitrary line that had been drawn in the dirt. She is apprehensive, and though he often forgets about his boar-like size, he is not amiss to the signs of frightening someone. Bunching himself up, he makes himself smaller with flattened ears and a low hanging tail. I mean you no harm.