The Sentinels "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land

A wandering star? Stelmaria spoke in a breathless sort of way as they circled one another; she was far more interested in the things she could glean from the burly wolf’s pelt, and her words came after she had inhaled a great deal of him, nearly replacing all of the available air in her lungs in favor of his scent alone. He smelled of this forest: these burnt woods, its new growth, its ancient boughs, and something crisper – definitely the autumn sea. There were fainter trails too, of long winding paths that had brought him to this place, same as her. Sometimes.

She stopped circling and took a polite step away. My name is Stelmaria. Are these your woods?