The Heartwood Edge control

She does not attempt to make pleasantries, nor even feign the appearance of cordiality. He takes it with some affront--having been raised to use flowery words at the start of an interaction and save succinctness for later--but part of him welcomes the change. She is all-too real; she pulls no punches. In response to her remark, he shakes his head, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"I do not care for fish," Llewellyn responds, nose wrinkling the slightest bit at the scent wafting from her kill. Saltwater creatures were fine, even sometimes refreshing, but those that swam in these inland waters are much too bland for his taste. "You are welcome to all the fish in the river, if you so choose." There is the barest hint of wry laughter in his words; the smile soon fades, and his tone grows more serious.

The woman smelled of crisp mountains and other wolves, and he regards her with a curious but measured gaze, pausing a moment before speaking again. "Where do you hail from?" he asks simply, pushing pleasantries aside--both for her sake and for his. An extended trip away from Moonspear is not much too his liking: he wanted to keep today's excursion brief and trouble-free. Extract relevant information, make an ally, leave.