Deepwood Weald keeper

Rhaena mouthed the word as he repeated it, shaping it carefully in her mind. Frēond: she liked the sound of it; warm, familiar, she would remember it.
As he motioned to his scars, she watched, her periwinkle gaze darting across each old wound with curiosity. He had lived through battle, survived things she could not even imagine. But what kind of monster would even dare to challenge him? He was huge; a living fortress! Rædwulf could flatten anything that stood in his way if he wanted to. Her tail flicked in thought before she blurted out, „What could have possibly hurt you?” A beat passed, and then she beamed, as if realizing something. „Oh! Unless.. unless you fought a bear! Or no, a pack of wolves! Or maybe a bear and a pack of wolves at the same time?” The excitement danced in her voice, her weight shifting eagerly from paw to paw.
Then, at his mention of English, she perked up. „English? Yes! That’s my language!” But the moment of realization stretched a little too long, and when he gestured toward himself, she blinked, confused. „Oh! You want me to teach you?” Her ears twitched in surprise before she giggled, a nervous, airy sound. „I mean… sure! But just so you know, I'm terrible at teaching.” She pawed lightly at the dirt, suddenly bashful, her gaze dipping downward. „I’ll try, though!”
Rædwulf’s massive paw traced a shape in the earth, a rough circle, and his claw pressed into its center. Rhaena’s head tilted, ears flicking as she studied it. Hām; home.
Her tail stilled, the light in her expression faltering for just a second. She understood immediately, but something about the word settled heavy in her chest, sinking deep like a stone in a riverbed. Her paws shuffled, weight shifting as she glanced away, ears folding back slightly. „No home,” she admitted softly, the words slipping past her lips before she could think to stop them. The shadow girl forced a small smile after a pause, kicking lightly at the dirt as if brushing the thought away.