Fox's Glade Frolicking In The Meadowsss

My, she was a pretty thing, but beauty often came with a price; no sooner had the man spoken and the girl looked utterly lost. Beyond that, even. She spoke and he understood well enough thanks to the lackluster tone of her voice (a pity really), and he smiled warmly all the same. A timid creature - but he had no intention of harming her, so boldly closed the distance regardless of her neuroticism.

Apologees misses, I ferget m'voice is hard to hear to those not used ta it, enunciated the traveller as best he could; he had the same enthusiastic timber to his voice but took some time to make himself sound more palatable. Whether it worked or not was another story. Still, he eagerly imposed a question: Ah, no need ta be so fidgety lass, or are ya always sucha deer? 

It was meant more as an observation of course. Me name is Cinqefoil; wot might I call ye lassie? Besides terrified, cos that be clearly unfair.