Honeyed Pasture trek along?

Pangur shakes her head in response You did not! She assures with a rise to her voice, almost melodic, a light, carefree cadence on her tongue as there always was. They can still be caught, no? We just walk further. She would shrug, hazel eyes trained now on the horizon, whose golden glow bathed the land; all beauty such as that; the work of the gods. Her placement here, to hunt alongside a soon to be not-stranger, the will of the gods.

Pangur's reverence was silent, a thought dancing away in her mind.

You will come, yes? We can split it between us! Already she bounded ahead, the illusion of choice offered to him while really she just ushered him to follow. There was more than just invitation in her voice, there was challenge, playful and light, eager to be met. Over the shoulder, she called with a grin What are you called? I am Pangur!