Totoka River i'm on my tip toes

His casual words were a stark contrast to the sound of his husky baritones, and the Renoda’s gaze wavered for a heartbeat - the moment she realised, cerulean eyes were drawn upward again, salmon tongue swiping hesitantly over black lips; it’s the rosings wolves, she thought with a hidden scowl. Men dominated the creek, and women were taught to be submissive, meek in their presence - a fact she despised, but in order to maintain any sort of place there (no matter how temporary) she’d had to adapt. That was a skill she’d had to learn over the years: adaptability.

But now she was not at rosings, and she could revert.

A flurry of snow gasped from the heavens, raining down as delicate snowflakes to dust over her pelt - she felt the lacings of ice seek through the smooth hairs of her coat, reaching pale tendrils over her spine, and she shook them off. "Um… yes, I do." The hesitation was foreign to her, and she disliked it already, invisibly sulking at the way it fell from her jaws - it would clear soon, as her thoughts did. "Do you want me to lead you there?" Faeryn had never been good at pointing directions - she found visuals far easier to learn, and not often did she share routes with others, usually keeping to herself and stargazing in luminous moonlight; things had changed. If not with her home, then with herself. At the very least the seawolf's time studying the waterways and relishing in the peace of nature had paid off, else she would have had to decline to the shadowed man, and a sliver of her mind was appreciative of the new face.

Besides, he was intruiging - to the eye, and to her thoughts... or perhaps she simply felt isolated, a concept she looked on with dismay (perhaps Faeryn had gone too soft?). She would seek to change it.