Cerulean Cape to haunt, to startle

The woman rose and seemed to accept the terms that he had stated for her. It didn't take a word for him to understand that she was willing to follow. Shaking his pelt, he pointed himself for the bay and motioned for her to follow at a pace that was comfortable. As they made their way through the sand, Smokestep turned to face her and offered a small smile that curled his dark lips just slightly. “Ye got a name, miss? Or am I to fashion ye one?” he inquired. It may very well have been an impolite request, but she had been of few words since he had wandered upon her, and he was not certain if that was a choice or if she simply could not talk. They would find a way, but he would offer her the courtesy of being able to provide a moniker for herself before jumping to the conclusion and creating one for her.