Hushed Willows and they raise a toast of bulleit rye

He had been walking through the wood when Boone summoned a meeting for all who had collected here. With a lazy pace, Kyrell began to lope beneath the swaying branches of the willow trees. For the first time in months, heeding to the whims of others.

His first impression of the mountaineer was favorable, although he had yet to spend time with the man. Reverie was welcoming and he took some care into appreciating her home. Slowly toeing his way through the wood. The footpaths in the willows still developing, but he had begun to memorize them and even make his own.

They both had been kind to let him stay, and, from what his nose told him, there were kind to several others too. His wanderings leading his path into both new and faded scent trails.

Breaking into the clearing, Kyrell blinked against the sun before spotting the pair on the ledge. He offered the pair a lazy wag of his tail before he turned his head to put faces to scents. So far two young woman, one of black ink and the other of red earth, had beaten him to the gathering.

A frown pulled at his lips as he realized the woman in red sat whale eyed and shook with the force of an earthquake. She certainly looked caught in one. His ears twisted to the rear before setting forward again. One in particular leaned towards Reverie and Boone.

He took a few strides into the clearing, breaking his silhouette from the treeline. He cleared his voice, Hey now... You're not looking too well, miss... He did not know her name. Emerald eyes trailed up the ledge to the homestead owners. Perhaps they'd be of better assistance than stating the obvious.