Cedar Sweep Western Red Cedar

She enjoyed this greatly. The curve to her lips, the gleam in her eye. The way she barbed her words as she spoke them. Honey-sweet in choice alone, for her praise is laced with venom.

Hawthornn knew he was under no obligation to put up with it. The way she picked apart his words. The judgement placed upon his condition. Her open mockery of his own beliefs.

But he was used to such scrutiny, wasn't he?

Yes, yes he was.

He watches her show. The presentation of the rabbit, now slain, and the continued possession of it she displayed. As he respected her possession of the animal upon capture, he still gave her his rapt attention. It would be impolite to disregard her charade. She was clearly proud of it.

Secrets.

She wanted him beneath her proverbial thumb. Her eyes begging for an answer that pleased her. He leveled his gaze with her own.

It's a flawed bargain, the one you put out. He pointedly out plainly, You want a secret, but you've no measure for what's true or not. You don't even know my name.

He was her entertainment, so why not deliver?

In a languid extension of his forelimbs, the lowering of his chest into a bow. A gentlemanly smile set upon his face, I am Hawthornn Goldenwoode.

Rising once more he tilted his head to her, brow raised. His following silence was clear in it's implication.

And you are?