Swiftcurrent Creek a smooth sea never made a skillful sailor

Scimitar shook his muzzle, questioning her motive. It stung her slightly; although Falwasi knew he was nothing but patient, it made her wonder whether he had grown fed up from the stalling. She brushed the feeling off immediately, though. There was no use crying over spilled milk, the milk being awakening a sleeping wolf as the world glazed over with obscurity.

"We haven't spoken in a while," she answered flatly. "How are you?" It was utterly fascinating that it had taken that long to get to the point. So fascinating that the two friends might even reminisce over it in the future if they felt garrulous enough.

Soon after her question, an almost imperceptible smile that she tried to hold back crept up upon the female's features, finding humour in her moratorium approach to the conversation. Falwasi did not know the burly male well enough to know if he would find facetiousness in her question too, but she would find out soon enough.