Wapun Meadow and I've got one foot in the door

he should of seen that coming—a free spirit like her wouldn't ever bind itself to a place or people. she wanted her songs to travel alongside her, going wherever the wind would carry her melody. a songbird in the flesh. he didn't blame her, either. she's young, untamed, and the world is hers to see. 

hers to serenade. 

"fair 'nough." he shrugged. "reckon' i wouldn't wanna settle if were still young. just don't be causing no trouble 'round the border." she may be all sweet berries and songs, but he had a feeling there was a wildness behind those half-lidded eyes of hers. 

shifting his weight, the all-present ache doesn't grip him as harshly. it's still there, but maybe a little duller. more manageable. "you're welcome. bearclaw got a habit of takin' in strays. offer'll be on the table if ya ever change your mind."

he quiets for a moment, before he's asking for her name. "what'cha called? or should i just call ya songbird."